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ek PLEASURES 
OE LIEE 

PARTS I AND II 

(COMPLETE EDITION) 



I Sir cJohn Lubbock, Bart.¥^1§ 




M. P., F. U, 8., D. C. L„ LL. I). 



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Chicago JN\ ^'^jk^ 

i pa ny yLI 



W. B. CONKEY COM PAT 



PUBLISHERS 



41972 



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Libr*** y of Congress 
HO Cw»t£c RtCEUEO 

SEP 1 1900 

Copyright tntry 

SECOND COPY. 

OeHvercd to 

ORDER DIVISION, 

OCT 18 1900 



Copyright, 1900, by W. B. Conkey Company. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER L 
The Duty of Happiness ...... 7 

CHAPTER ill. 
The Happiness of Duty « 23 

CHAPTER HI. 
A Song of Books .. 36 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Choice of Books 47 

CHAPTER V. 
The Blessing of Friends 63 

CHAPTER VI. 
The Value of Time 70 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Pleasures of Travel 77 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Pleasures of Home 90 

CHAPTER IX. 
Science 99 

CHAPTER X. 
Education 115 

3 



4 CONTENTS. 

PART II. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER I. 
Ambition 129 

CHAPTER II. 

Wealth 138 

CHAPTER III. 
Health . , 144 

CHAPTER IV. 
Love 157 

CHAPTER V. 
Art 1 70 

CHAPTER VI. 

Poetry 183 

CHAPTER VII. 

Music , 194 

CHAPTER VIIL 
The Beauties of Nature 207 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Troubles of Life 228 

CHAPTER X. 
Labor and Rest 236 

CHAPTER XI. 

Religion .244 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Hope of Progress. 258 

CHAPTER XIII. 
The Destiny of Man -.270 



PREFACE. 



Those who have the pleasure of attending 
the opening meetings of schools and colleges, 
and of giving away prizes and certificates, are 
generally expected at the same time to offer 
such words of counsel as the experience of the 
world might enable them to give to those 
who are entering life. 

Being myself naturally rather prone to 9uffer 
from low spirits, I have at several of these 
gatherings taken the opportunity of dwelling 
on the privileges and blessings we enjoy, and 
I reprint here the substance of some of these 
addresses (omitting what was special to the 
circumstances of each case, and freely making 
any alterations and additions which have since 
occurred to me), hoping that the thoughts and 
quotations in which I have myself found most 
comfort may perhaps be of use to others also. 

It is hardly necessary to say that I have not 
by any means referred to all the sources of 
happiness open to us, some indeed of the great- 
est pleasures and blessings being altogether 
omitted. 

In reading over the proofs I feel that I may 
appear in some cases too dogmatic, but I hope 
that allowance will be made for the circum- 
stances under which they were delivered. 

High Elms, Down, Kent, January, 1887. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE DUTY OF HAPPINESS.* 

"If a man is unhappy, this must be his own fault: for 
God made all men to be happy." — Epictetus. 

Life is a great gift, and as we reach years 
of discretion, we most of us naturally ask our- 
selves what should be the main object of our 
existence. Even those who do not accept 
44 the greatest good of the greatest number' ' as 
an absolute rule, will yet admit that we should 
all endeavor to contribute as far as we may to 
the happiness of our fellow-creatures. There 
are many, however, who seem to doubt whether 
it is possible, or even right, that we should be 
happy ourselves. Our own happiness ought 
not, of course, to be our main object, nor indeed 
will it ever be secured if selfishly sought. We 
may have many pleasures in life, but must not 
let pleasures have rule over us o~ they will 
soon hand us over to sorrow; and 4 into what 
dangerous and miserable servitude does he fall 
who suffereth pleasures and sorrows (two 

*The substance of this was delivered at the Harris 
Institute, Preston. 



8 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

unfaithful and cruel commanders) to possess 
him successively?" I cannot, however, but 
think that the world would be better and brighter 
if our teachers would dwell on the Duty of Hap- 
piness as well as on the Happiness of Duty ; for 
we ought to be as cheerful as we can, if only 
because to be happy ourselves is a most effec- 
tual contribution to the happiness of others. 

Every one must have felt that a cheerful 
friend is like a sunny day, which sheds its 
brightness on all around ; and most of us can, 
as we choose, make of this world either a pal- 
ace or a prison. 

There is no doubt some selfish satisfaction in 
yielding to melancholy; in brooding over 
grievances, especially if more or less imagin- 
ary, in fancying that we are victims of fate. 
To be bright and cheerful often requires an 
effort ; there is a certain art in keeping our- 
selves happy; in this respect, as in others, we 
require to watch over and manage ourselves 
almost as if we were somebody else. 

As a nation we are prone to melancholy. 
It has been said of our countrymen that they 
take even their pleasures sadly. But this, if it 
be true at all, will, I hope, prove a transitory 
characteristic. " Merry England" was the old 
saying, and we hope it may become true again. 
We must look to the East for real melancholy. 
What can be sadder than the lines with which 
Omar Khayyam opens his quatrains. I quote 
from Whinfield's translation: 






THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 9 

"We sojourn here for one short day or two, 
And all the gain we get is grief and woe ; 
And then, leaving life's problems all unsolved 
And harassed by regrets, we have to go;'* 

or the Devas' song to Prince Siddartha, in 
Edwin Arnold's beautiful version: 

"We are the voices of the wandering wind, 
Which moan for rest, and rest can never find 
Lo ! as the wind is, so is mortal life — 
A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. 1 ' 

No wonder that under such circumstances, 
Nirvana — the cessation of sorrow — should be 
welcomed even at the sacrifice of conscious- 
ness. But, on the contrary, ought we not to 
place before ourselves a very different ideal — 
healthier, manlier, and nobler hope? 

"Im ganzen, guten, schonen. 
Resolut zu leben." 

Life certainly may be, and ought to be, bright, 
interesting*, and happy ; and, according to the 
Italian proverb, "if all cannot live on the 
Piazza, every one may feel the sun. ' ' 

If we do our best; if we do not magnify 
trifling troubles ; if we resolutely look, I do not 
say at the bright side of things, but at things 
as they really are ; if we avail ourselves of the 
manifold blessings which surround us, we can- 
not but feel how thankful we ought to be for 
the "sacred trusts of health, strength, and 
time," — for the glorious inheritance of life. 

Few of us, indeed, realize the wonderful priv- 
ilege of living ; the blessings we inherit, the 
glories and beauties of the Universe, which is 

2 Pleasures 



10 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

our own if we choose to have it so ; the extent 
to which we can make ourselves what we wish 
to be; or the power we possess of securing 
peace, of triumphing over pain and sorrow. 

Dante pointed to the neglect of opportunities 
as a serious fault ; 

"Man can do violence 
To himself and his own blessings, and for this 
He, in the second round, must aye deplore, 
With unavailing penitence, his crime. 
Whoe'er deprives himself of life and light 
In reckless lavishment his talent wastes, 
And sorrows then when he should dwell in joy." 

Ruskin has expressed this with special allu- 
sion to the marvelous beauty of this glorious 
world, too often taken as a matter of course, 
and remembered, if at all, almost without grat- 
itude. "Holy men/' he complains, * 'in the 
recommending of the love of God to us, refer 
but seldom to those things in which it is most 
abundantly and immediately shown; though 
they insist much on His giving of bread, and 
raiment, and health (which He gives to all 
inferior creatures), they require us not to 
thank Him for that glory of His works which 
He has permitted us alone to perceive : they 
tell us often to meditate in the closet, but they 
send us not, like Isaac, into the fields at even ; 
they dwell on the duty of self-denial, but they 
exhibit not the duty of delight:" and yet, as he 
justly says elsewhere, "each of us, as we travel 
the way of life, has the choice, according to 
our working, of turning all the voices of Nature 
into one song of rejoicing; or of withering and 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 11 

quenching her sympathy into a fearful with- 
drawn silence of condemnation, or into a crying- 
out of her stones and a shaking of her dust 
against us." 

May we not all admit, with Sir Henry Tay- 
lor, that "the retrospect of life swarms wtih 
lost opportunities. " 

St. Bernard, indeed, goes so far as to state 
that "nothing can work me damage except 
myself; the harm that I sustain I carry about 
with me, and never am a real sufferer but by 
my own fault." 

Some Heathen moralists have taught very 
much the same lesson. "The gods," says 
Marcus Aurelius, "have put all the means in 
man's power to enable him not to fall into real 
evils. Now that which does not make a man 
worse, how can it make his life worse?" 

Epictetus takes the same line: "If a man is 
unhappy, remember that his unhappiness is his 
own fault; for God has made all men to be 
happy." "I am," he elsewhere says, "always 
content with that which happens; for I think 
that which God chooses is better than what I 
choose." And again: "Seek not that things 
which happen should happen as you wish ; but 
wish the things which happen to be as they 
are, and you will have a tranquil flow of life 
... If you wish for anything which belongs 
to another, you lose that which is your own." 
Few, however, if any, can, I think, go as far 
as St. Bernard. We cannot but suffer from 
pain, sickness, and anxiety; from the loss, the 
unkindness, the faults, even the coldness of 



12 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

those we love; How many a day has been 
damped and darkened by an angry word. 

Hegel is said to have calmly finished his 
Phoenomenologie des Geistes at Jena, on the 
14th October, 1806, not knowing anything 
whatever of the battle that was raging round 
him. 

But if we separate ourselves so much from 
the interests of those around us that we do not 
sympathize with them in their sufferings, we 
shut ourselves out from sharing their joys, and 
lose far more than we gain. If we exclude 
sympathy and wrap ourselves round in a cold 
chain-armor of selfishness, we exclude our- 
selves from many of the greatest and purest 
joys of life. To render ourselves insensible to 
pain we must forfeit also the possibility of 
happiness. 

It is, in fact, impossible to deny the exist- 
ence of evil, and the reason for it has long 
exercised the human intellect. The savage 
solves it by the supposition of evil spirits. 
The Greeks attributed the misfortunes of men 
in great measure to the antipathies and jeal- 
ousies of gods and goddesses. Others have 
imagined two divine principles, opposite and 
antagonistic — the one friendly, the other hos- 
tile to men. 

Much, however, of what we call evil is really 
good in disguise, and we should not " quarrel 
rashly with adversities not yet understood, nor 
overlook the mercies often bound up in them." 
Pain, for instance, is a warning of danger, a 
very necessity of existence. But for it, but 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 13 

for the warnings which our feelings give us, 
the very blessings by which we are surrounded 
would soon and inevitably prove fatal. Many 
of those who have not studied the question are 
under the impression that the more deeply- 
seated portions of the body must be most sens- 
itive. The very reverse is the case. The skin 
is a continuous and ever watchful sentinel, ever 
on guard to give us notice of any approaching 
danger; while the flesh and inner organs, 
where pain would be without purpose, are, so 
long as they are healthy, comparatively with- 
out sensation. 

Freedom of action seems to involve the pos- 
sibility of evil. If any freedom of choice be 
left us, much must depend on the choice we 
make. In the very nature of things, two and 
two cannot make five. Epictetus imagines 
Jupiter addressing man as follows: "If it had 
been possible to make your body and your 
property free from liability to injury, I would 
have done so. As this could not be, I have 
given you a small portion of myself. " 

This divine gift it is for us to use wisely. It 
is, in fact, our most valuable treasure. "The 
soul is a much better thing than all the others 
which you possess. Can you then show me in 
what way you have taken care of it? For it is 
not likely that you, who are so wise a man, 
inconsiderately and carelessly allow the most 
valuable thing that you possess to be neglected 
and to perish." 

Moreover, even if evil cannot be altogether 
avoided, it is no doubt true that not only 



14 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

whether we lead good and useful, or evil and 
useless lives, but also whether we are happy or 
unhappy, is vere much in our own power, and 
depends greatly on ourselves. "Time alone 
relieves the foolish from sorrow, but reason the 
wise, ' ' and no one was ever yet made utterly 
miserable excepting by himself. We are, if 
not the masters, at any rate almost the creators 
of ourselves. 

With most of us it is not so much great sor- 
rows, disease, or death, but rather the little 
"daily dyings, M which cloud over the sunshine 
of life. How many of the troubles of life are 
insignificant in themselves, and might easily 
be avoided? 

How happy home might generally be made 
but for foolish quarrels, or misunderstandings, 
as they are well named ! It is our own fault if 
we are querulous or ill-humored : nor need we, 
though this is less easy, allow ourselves to be 
made unhappy by the querulousness or ill- 
humors of others. 

Much of what we suffer we have brought on 
ourselves, if not by actual fault, at least by 
ignorance or thoughtlessness. Many of us 
fritter our life away. Indeed, La Bruyere says 
that "most men spend much of their lives in 
making the rest miserable;" or, as Goethe puts 
it: 

"Careworn man has, in all ages, 
Sown vanity to reap despair." 

Not only do we suffer much in the anticipa- 
tion of evil, as "Noah lived many years under 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 15 

the affliction of a flood, and Jerusalem was 
taken unto Jeremy before it was^besieged, ' ' 
but we often distress ourselves greatly in the 
apprehension of misfortunes which after all 
never happen at all. We should do our best 
and wait calmly the result. We often hear of 
people breaking down from over-work, but in 
nine cases out of ten they are really suffering 
from worry or anxiety. 

"Nos maux moraux," says Rousseau, "sont 
tous dans l'opinion, hors un seul, qui est le 
crime; et celui-la depend denous: nos maux 
physiques nous detruisent, ou se detruisent. 
Le temps ou la mort sont nos remedes. ' ' 

This, however, applies to the grown up. 
With children of course it is different. It is 
customary, but I think it is a mistake, to speak 
of happy childhood. Children, however, are 
often over-anxious and acutely sensitive. Man 
ought to be a man and master of his fate, but 
children are at the mercy of those around them. 
Mr. Rarey, the great horse-tamer, has told us 
that he has known an angry word raise the 
pulse of a horse ten beats in a minute. Think 
then how it must affect a child ! 

It is small blame to the youiig if they are 
over-anxious ; ,but it is a danger to be striven 
against. ;< Tho terrors of the storm are chiefly 
felt in the parlor or the cabin. " 

To save ourselves from imaginary, or at any 
rate problematical evils, we often incur real 
suffering. "Theman," said Epicurus, "who 
is not content with little is content with noth- 
ing. " How often do we "labor for that which 



16 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

satisfieth not. ' ' We most of us give ourselves 
an immense amount of useless trouble ; encum- 
ber ourselves, as it were, on the journey of life 
with a dead weight of unnecessary baggage. 
And as "a man maketh his train longer, he 
makes his wings shorter." In that delightful 
fairy tale, Alice Through the Looking-Glass, 
the 4t White Knight" is described as having 
provided himself on starting for a journey with 
a variety of odds and ends, including a mouse- 
trap, in case he was troubled by mice at night, 
and a beehive in case he came across a swarm 
of bees. 

Hearne, in his Journey to the Mouth of the 
Coppermine River, tells us that a few days 
after starting he met a party of Indians, who 
annexed a great deal of his property, and all 
Hearne says is, "The weight of our baggage 
being so much lightened, our next day's jour- 
ney w;,s much pleasanter. ' ' I ought, however, 
to add that the Indians broke up the philo- 
sophical instruments, which, no doubt, were 
rather an encumbrance. 

44 We talk of the origin of evil; . . . but what 
is evil? We mostly speak of sufferings and 
trials as good, perhaps, in their results ; but we 
hardly admit that they may be good in them- 
selves. Yet they are knowledge — how else to 
be acquired, unless by making men as gods, 
enabling them to understand without experi- 
ence. All that men go through may be abso- 
lutely the best for them — no such thing as evil, 
at least in our customary meaning of the 
word." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 17 

Indeed, "the vale best discovereth the hill,'* 
and "pour sentir les grands biens, il faut 
qu'il connoisse les petits maux." 

If we cannot hope that life will be all happi- 
ness, we may at least secure a heavy balance 
on the right side, and even events which look 
like misfortune, if boldly faced, may often be 
turned to good. Helmholtz dates his start in 
science to an attack of typhoid fever. This 
illness led to his acquisition of a microscope, 
which he was enabled to purchase, owing to 
his having spent his autumn vacation of 1841 
in the hospital, prostrated by typhoid fever; 
being a pupil, he was nursed without ex- 
pense, and on his recovery he found himself in 
possession of the savings of his small re- 
sources. 

"Under different circumstances/ ' says Cas- 
telar, "Savonarola would undoubtedly have 
been a good husband, a tender father, a man 
unknown to history, utterly powerless to print 
upon the sands of time and upon the human 
soul the deep trace which he has left ; but mis- 
fortune came to visit him, to crush his heart, 
and to impart that marked melancholy which 
characterizes a soul in grief, and the grief that 
circled his brows with a crown of thorns was 
also that which wreathed them with the splen- 
dor of immortality. His hopes were centered 
in the woman he loved, his life was set upon 
the possession of her, and when her family 
finally rejected him, partly on account of his 
profession, and partly on account of his per- 
son, he believed that it was death that had 



18 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

come upon him, when in truth it was immor- 
tality." 

Moreover, when troubles come, Marcus 
Aurelius wisely tells us to "remember on every 
occasion which leads thee to vexation to apply 
this principle, that this is not a misfortune, 
but that to bear it nobly is good fortune;" and 
he elsewhere observes that we suffer much 
more from the anger and vexation which we 
allow acts to rouse in us, than we do from the 
acts themselves at which we are angry and 
vexed. How much most people, for instance, 
allow themselves to be distracted and dis- 
turbed by quarrels and family disputes. Yet 
in nine cases out of ten one ought not to suffer 
from being found fault with. If the condem- 
nation is just, it should be welcome as a warn- 
ing; if it is undeserved, why should we allow 
it to distress us? 

If misfortunes happen we do but make them 
worse by grieving over them. 

" I must die," again says Epictetus. "But 
must I then die sorrowing? I must be put in 
chains. Must I then also lament? I must go 
into exile. Can I be prevented from going 
with cheerfulness and contentment? But I 
will put you in prison. Man, what are you 
saying? You can put my body in prison, but 
my mind not even Zeus himself can over- 
power. ■ ' 

If, indeed, we cannot be happy, the fault is 
generally in ourselves. Epictetus was a poor 
slave, and yet how much we owe him ! 

"How is it possible," he says, "that a man 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 19 

who has nothing, who is naked, houseless, 
without a hearth, squalid, without a slave, 
without a city, can pass a life that flows easily? 
See, God has sent you a man to show you that 
it is possible. Look at me who am without a 
city, without a house, without possessions, 
without a slave; I sleep on the ground; I 
have no wife, no children, no praetorium, but 
only the earth and heavens, and one poor 
cloak. And what do I want? Am I not with- 
out sorrow? Am I not without fear? Am I 
not free? When did any of you see me failing 
in the object of my desire? or ever falling 
into that which I would avoid? Did I ever 
blame God or man? Did I ever accuse any 
man? Did any of you ever see me with a sor- 
rowful countenance? And how do I meet with 
those whom you are afraid of and admire? 

Do not I treat them like slaves? Who, when 
he sees me, does not think that he sees his king 
and master?" 

Think how much we have to be thankful for. 
Few of us appreciate the number of our every- 
day blessings; we think they are trifles and 
yet "trifles make perfection, and perfection is 
no trifle/' as Michael Angelo said. We for- 
get them because they are always with us, and 
yet for each of us, as Mr. Pater well observes 
of his hero Marius, "these simple gifts, and 
others equally trivial, bread and wine, fruit 
and milk, might regain, that poetic and as it 
were, moral significance which surely belongs 
to all the means of our daily life, could we 
but break through the veil of our familiarity 



20 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

with things by no means vulgar in them- 
selves. ' ' 

4 * Let not, ' ' ays Isaak Walton, 4 k the blessings 
we receive daily from God make us not to 
value or not praise Him because they be com- 
mon ; let us not forget to praise Him for the 
innocent mirth and pleasure we have met with 
since we met together. What would a blind 
man give to see the pleasant rivers and 
meadows and flowers and fountains; and this 
and many other like blessings we enjoy daily. *' 

Contentment, we have been told by Epi- 
curus, consists not in great wealth, but in few 
wants. In this fortunate country, however, 
we may have many wants, and yet, if they are 
only reasonable, we may gratify them all. 

Nature provides without stint the main req- 
uisites of human happiness. "To watch the 
corn grow, or the blossoms set ; to draw hard 
breath over the plowshare or spade; to read, 
to think, to love, to pray," these says Ruskin, 
•'are the things that make men happy. !S 

"I have fallen into the hands of thieves, " 
says Jeremy Taylor; "what then? They have 
left me the sun and moon, fire and water, a 
loving wife and many friends to pity me, and 
some to relieve me, and I can still discourse; 
and, unless I list, they have not taken away 
my merry countenance and my cheerful spirit 
and a good conscience. . . . And he that hath 
so many causes of joy, and so great, is very 
much in love with sorrow and peevishness who 
loses all these pleasures, and chooses to sit 
down on his little handful of thorns.' ' 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 21 

" When a man has such things to think on, 
and sees the sun, the moon, and stars, and 
enjoys earth and sea, he is not solitary or even 
helpless. " 

"Paradise indeed might," as Luther said, 
"apply to the whole world." What more is 
there we could ask for ourselves? "Every sort 
of beauty," says Mr. Greg, "has been lav- 
ished on our allotted home : beauties to enrap- 
ture every sense, beauties to satisfy every 
taste; forms the noblest and the loveliest, col- 
ors the most gorgeous and the most delicate, 
odors the sweetest and subtlest, harmonies the 
most soothing and the most stirring; the sunny 
glories of the day; the pale Elysian grace of 
moonlight, the lake, the mountain, the prim- 
rose, the forest, and the boundless ocean ; 
4 silent pinnacles of aged snow* in one hemi- 
sphere, the marvels of tropical luxuriance in 
another; the serenity of sunsets ; the sublimity 
of storms; everything is bestowed in boundless 
profusion on the scene of our existence ; we 
can conceive or desire nothing more exquisite 
or perfect than what is round us every hour, 
and our perceptions are so framed as to be 
consciously alive to all. The provision made 
for our sensuous enjoyment is in overflowing 
abundance ; so is that for the other elements 
of our complex nature. Who that has reveled 
in the opening ecstasies of a young imagina- 
tion, or the rich marvels of the world of 
thought, does not confess that the intelligence 
has been dowered at least with as profuse a 
beneficence as the senses? Who that has truly 



22 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

tasted and fathomed human love in its dawn- 
ing and crowning joys has not thanked God 
for a felicity which indeed 4 passeth under- 
standing?' If we had set our fancy to picture 
a Creator occupied solely in devising delight 
for children whom he loved, we could not 
conceive one single element of bliss which is 
no*; here." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 23 



CHAPTER II. 

THE HAPPINESS OF DUTY.* 

"I am always content with that which happens; for I 
think that what God chooses is better than what I 
choose. ' ' — Epictetus. 

"O God, All conquering! this lower earth 
Would be for men the blest abode of mirth 

If they were strong in Thee * 

As other things of this world well are seen 
Other, far other than they yet have been, 
How happy would men be." 

— King Alfred's ed. of Boethius's 
Consolations of Philosophy. 

We ought not to picture Duty to ourselves, or 
to others, as a stern task-mistress. She is 
rather a kind and sympathetic mother, ever 
ready to shelter us from the cares and anxieties 
of this world, and to guide us in the paths of 
peace. 

To shut oneself up from mankind is, in most 
cases, to lead a selfish as well as a dull life. 
Our duty is to make ourselves useful and thus 
life may be most interesting, and yet com- 
paratively free from anxiety. 

But how can we fill our lives with life,* 
energy, and interest, and yet keep care out- 
side? 

* The substance of this was delivered at the Harris 
Institute, Preston. 



24 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Many great men have made shipwreck in 
the attempt. " Anthony sought for happiness 
in love; Brutus in glory; Caesar in dominion: 
the first found disgrace, the second disgust, the 
last ingratitude, and each destruction." 
Riches, again, often bring danger, trouble, 
and temptation; they require care to keep, 
though they may give much happiness if 
wisely spent. 

How then is this great object to be secured? 
What, says Marcus Aurelius, "What then is 
that which is able to conduct a man? One 
thing and only one — philosophy. But this 
consists in keeping the demon within a man 
free from violence and unharmed, superior to 
pains and pleasures, doing nothing without a 
purpose, not yet falsely and with hypocrisy, 
not feeling the need of another man's doing 
or not doing anything; and besides, accepting 
all that happens, and all that is allotted, as 
coming from thence, wherever it is, from 
whence he himself came; and, finally, waiting 
for death with a cheerful mind, as being noth- 
ing else than a dissolution of the elements of 
which every living being is compounded. " I 
confess I do not feel the force of these last few 
words, which indeed scarcely seem requisite 
for his argument. The thought of death, how- 
ever, certainly influences the conduct of life 
less than might have been expected. 

Bacon truly points out that "there is no 
passion in the mind of man so weak, but it 
mates and masters the fear of death. . . . 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 25 

Revenge triumphs over death, love slights it, 
honor aspire th to it, grief flieth to it." 

"Think not I dread to see my spirit fly 

Through the dark gates of fell mortality ; 

Death has no terrors when the life is true ; 

'Tis living ill that makes us fear to die." 

We need certainly have no such fear if we 
have done our best to make others happy : to 
promote " peace on earth and good will amongst 
men." Nothing, again, can do more to re- 
lease us from the cares of this world, which 
consumes so much of our time, and embitters 
so much of our life ; yet when we have done 
our best, we should wait the result in peace; 
content, as Epictetus says, "with that which 
happens, for what God chooses is better than 
what I choose." 

At any rate, if we have not effected all we 
wished, we shall have influenced ourselves. It 
may be true that one cannot do much. "You 
are not Hercules, and you are not able to 
purge away the wickedness of others ; nor yet 
are you Theseus, able to purge away the 
evil things of Attica. Clear away your own. 
From yourself, from your thoughts; cast 
away, instead of Procrustes and Sciron, sad- 
ness, fear, desire, envy, malevolence, avarice, 
effeminacy, intemperance. But it is not pos- 
sible to eject these things otherwise than by 
looking to God only, by fixing your affections 
on Him only, by being consecrated by his com- 
mands. " To rule oneself is in reality the 
greatest triumph. 



26 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"He who is his own monarch," says Sir T. 
Browne, "contentedly sways the scepter of 
himself, not envying the glory to crowned 
heads and Elohim of the earth;" for those are 
really highest who are nearest to heaven, and 
those are lowest who are farthest from it. 
True greatness has little, if anything, to do 
with rank or power. 

"Eurystheus being what he was," says 
Epictetus, "was not really king of Argos nor 
of Mycenae, for he could not even rule himself; 
while Hercules purged lawlessness and intro- 
duced justice, though he was both naked 
and alone." 

We are told that Cineas, the philosopher, 
once asked Pyrrhus what he would do when 
he had conquered Italy. "I will conquer 
Sicily." "And after Sicily?" "Then Africa." 
"And after you have conquered the world?" 
4 ' I will take my ease and be merry. " " Then, ' ' 
asked Cineas, "why can you not take your 
ease and be merry now?" Moreover, as Sir 
Arthur Helps has wisely pointed out, "the 
enlarged view we have of the Universe must 
in some measure damp personal ambition. 
What is it to be king, sheikh, tetrarch, or em- 
peror over a 'bit of a bit* of this little earth?" 

44 All rising to great place," says Bacon, "is 
by a winding stair:" and " princes are like 
heavenly bodies, which have much veneration, 
but no rest." Moreover, there is a great deal 
of drudgery in the lives of courts. Ceremo- 
nials may be important, but they are terribly 
tedious, and take up a great deal of time. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 27 

A man is his own best kingdom. But self- 
control, this truest and greatest monarchy, 
rarely comes by inheritance. Every one of us 
must conquer himself, and we may do so, if 
we take conscience for our guide and general. 

Being myself engaged in business, I was 
rather startled to find it laid down by 
no less an authority than Aristotle (almost 
as if it were a self-evident proposition) that 
commerce "is incompatible with that dignified 
life which it is our wish that our citizens 
should lead, and totally adverse to that gen- 
erous elevation of mind with which it is our 
ambition to inspire them. ' ' I know not how 
far that may really have been the. spirit and 
tendency of commerce among the ancient 
Greeks; but if so, I do not wonder that it was 
not more successful. 

But is it true that the ordinary duties of life 
in a country like ours — commerce, manufac- 
tures, agriculture — the pursuits to which the 
vast majority are and must be devoted — are 
incompatible with the dignity or nobility of 
life? Surely this is not so. Whether a life is 
noble or ignoble depends not on the calling 
which is adopted, but on the spirit in which it 
is followed. The humblest life may be noble, 
while that of the most powerful monarch or 
the greatest genius may be contemptible. 
What Ruskin says of art is, with due modifica- 
tion, true of life generally. It does not matter 
whether a man 4t paint the petal of a rose or 
the chasms of a precipice, so that love and ad- 
miration attend on him as he labors, and wait 



28 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

forever on his work. It does not matter whether 
he toil for months on a few inches of his can- 
vas, or cover a palace front with color in a day, 
so only that it be with a solemn purpose, that 
he have filled his heart with patience or urged 
his hand to haste." 

It is true that in a subsequent volume he 
refers to this passage, and adds, "But though 
all is good for study and all is beautiful, some 
is better than the rest for the help and pleas- 
ure of others ; and this it is our duty always to 
choose if we have opportunity," adding, how- 
ever, "being quite happy with what is within 
our reach if we have not. M 

Commerce, indeed, is not only compatible, 
but I would almost go further and say that it 
will be most successful if carried on in happy 
union with noble aims and generous aspira- 
tions. We read of and admire the heroes of 
old, but every one of us has to fight his own 
Marathon and Thermopylae; every one meets 
the Sphinx sitting by the road he has to pass ; 
to each of us, as to Hercules, is offered the 
choice of Vice and Virtue; we may, like Paris, 
give the apple of life to Venus, or Juno, or 
Minerva. 

I may, indeed, quote Aristotle against him- 
self, for he has elsewhere told us that "busi- 
ness should be chosen for the sake of leisure ; 
and things necessary and useful for the sake of 
the beautiful in conduct." 

There are many who seem to think that we 
have fal 1 en on an age in the world when life is 
especially difficult and anxious, when there is 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 29 

less leisure than ever, and the struggle for 
existence is keener than it was of yore. 

On the other hand, we must remember how 
much we have gained in security. It may be 
an age of hard work, but when this is not car- 
ried to an extreme, it is by no means an evil. 
Cheerful is the daughter of employment, and 
on the whole I believe there never was a time 
when modest merit and patient industry were 
more sure of reward. We must not, indeed, 
be discouraged if success be slow in coming, 
nor puffed up if it comes quickly. We should, 
however, greatly misunderstand the teaching 
of Marcus Aurelius if we supposed that in 
advocating philosophy he intended in any way 
to exclude sympathy with the joys and sorrows 
of others. 

Matthew Arnold has suggested that we might 
take a lesson from the heavenly bodies: 

"Unaffrighted by the silence round them, 
Undistracted by the sights they see, 
These demand not that the things without them 
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. 

"Bounded by themselves, and unobservant 
In what state God's other works may be, 
In their own tasks all their powers pouring, 
These attain the mighty life you see." 

To many, however, this isolation would be 
itself most painful. The heart is "no island 
cut off from other lands, but a continent that 
joins to them," though it is true that 

"A man is his own star; 
Our acts our angels are 
For good or ill." 



30 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and that " rather than follow a multitude to do 
evil," one should "stand like Pompey's pillar, 
conspicuous by oneself, and single in integ- 
rity." 

Newman, in perhaps the most beautiful of 
his hymns, "Lead, kindly Light," says: 

"Keep thou my feet, I do not ask to see 
The distant scene; one step enough for me." 

But we must be sure that we are really follow- 
ing some worthy guide, and not out of mere 
laziness allowing ourselves to drift. We have. 
a guide within us which will generally lead us 
straight enough. 

Religion, no doubt, is full of difficulties, but 
if we are aften puzzled what to think, we need 
seldom be in doubt what to do. 

"To say well is good, but to do well is better; 

Do well is the spirit, and say well the letter; 

If do well and say well were fitted in one frame. 
All were won, all were done, and got were all the gain." 

Cleanthes, who appears to have well merited 
the statue erected to him at Assos, says: 

"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, O Destiny, 

The way that I am bid by you to go: 

To follow I am ready. If I choose not, 

I make myself a wretch; and still must follow." 

If we are ever in doubt what to do, it is a 
good rule to ask ourselves what we shall wish 
on the morrow that we had done. 

Moreover, the result in the long run will 
depend not so much on some single resolution, 
or on our action in a special case, but rather 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 31 

on the preparation of daily life. Great battles 
are really won before they are actually fought. 
To control our passions we must govern our 
habits, and keep watch over ourselves in the 
small details of everyday life. 

The importance of small things has been 
pointed out by philosophers over and over 
again from M sop downward. " Great without 
small makes a bad wall, ' ' says a quaint Greek 
proverb, which seems to go back to cyclopean 
times. In an old Hindoo story Ammi says to 
his son, "Bring me a fruit of that tree and 
break it open. What is there?' ' The son said, 
* ' Some small seeds. ' ' " Break one of them and 
what do you see?" "Nothing, my lord. " 
4< My child," said Ammi, "where you see noth- 
ing there dwells a mighty tree." It may 
almost be questioned, whether anything can be 
truly called small. 

"There is no great and no small 
To the soul that maketh all ; 
And where is cometh all things are, 
And it cometh everywhere." 

"If then, you wish not to be of an angry 
temper, do not feed the habit: throw nothing 
on it which will increase it: at first keep quiet, 
and count the days on which you have not been 
angry. I used to be in passion every day ; now 
every second day ; then every third ; then every 
fourth. But if you have intermitted thirty 
days, make a sacrifice to Qod. For the habit 
at first begins to be weakened, and then is com- 
pletely destroyed. When you can say, *I have 



32 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

not been vexed to-day, nor the day before, 
nor yet on any succeeding day during two or 
three months ; but I took care when some excit- 
ing things happened,' be assured that you are 
in a good way." 

"The great man," says Emerson, "is he 
who in the midst of the crowd keeps with per- 
fect sweetness the serenity of solitude. ' ' 

And he closes his Conduct of Life with a 
striking allegory. The young mortal enters 
the Hall of the Firmament. The gods are sit- 
ting there, and he is alone with them. They 
pour on him gifts and blessings, and beckon 
him to their thrones. But between him and 
them suddenly appear snow-storms of illusions. 
He imagines himself in a vast crowd, whose 
behests he fancies he must obey. The mad 
crowd drives hither and thither, and sways 
this way and that. What is he that he should 
resist? He lets himself be carried about. 
How can he think or act for himself? But 
when the clouds lift, there are the gods still 
sitting on their thrones; they alone with him 
alone. 

We may all, if we will, secure peace of mind 
for ourselves. 

44 Men seek retreats," says Marcus Aurelius, 
44 houses in the country, seashores, and moun- 
tains ; and thou too art wont to desire such 
things very much. But this is altogether a 
mark of the most common sort of men, for it is 
in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to 
retire into thyself. For nowhere either with 
more quiet or more freedom f$em trouble does 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 33 

a man retire than into his own soul, particu- 
larly when he has within him such thoughts 
that by looking into them he is immediately in 
perfect tranquillity. 

Happy indeed is the man who has such a 
sanctuary in his own soul. 

44 He who is virtuous is wise; and he who is 
wise is good; and he who is good is happy." 

But we cannot expect to be happy if we do 
not lead pure and useful lives. To be good 
company for ourselves we must store our minds 
well; fill them with happy and pure thoughts, 
with pleasant memories of the past, and rea- 
sonable hopes for the future. We must, as far 
as may be, protect ourselves from self- 
reproach, from care, and from anxiety. We 
shall make our lives pure and happy, by resist- 
ing evil, by placing restraint upon our appe- 
tites, and perhaps even more by strengthen- 
ing and developing our tendencies to good. 
We must be careful, then, how we choose our 
thoughts. The soul is dyed by its thoughts; 
we cannot keep our minds pure if we allow 
them to dwell on detailed accounts of crime 
&nd sin. Peace of mind, as Ruskin beautifully 
observes, "must come in its own time, as the 
waters settle themselves into clearness as well 
as quietness; you can no more filter your mind 
into purity than you can compress it into calm- 
ness; you must keep it pure if you would have 
it pure, and throw no stones into it if you would 
have it quiet." 

Few men have led a wiser or more virtuous 
life than Socrates, of whom Xenophon gives us 

3 Pleasures 



34 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

the following description : — ' * To me, being such 
as I have described him, so pious that he did 
nothing without the sanction of the gods; so 
just, that he wronged no man even in the most 
trifling affair, but was of service in the most 
important matters to those who enjoyed his 
society; so temperate that he never perferred 
pleasure to virtue ; so wise, that he never erred 
in distinguishing better from worse; needing 
no counsel from others, but being sufficient in 
himself to discriminate between them; so able 
to explain and settle such questions by argu- 
ment; and so capable of discerning the charac- 
ter of others, of confuting those who were in 
error, and of exhorting them to virtue and 
honor, he seemed to be such as the best and 
happiest of men would be. But if any one dis- 
approves of my opinion let him compare the 
conduct of others with that of Socrates, and 
determine accordingly. •' 

Marcus Aurelius again has drawn for us a most 
instructive lesson in his character of Antoninus : 
— " Do everything as a disciple of Antoninus. 
Remember his constancy in every act which 
was conformable to reason, and his evenness 
in all things, and his piety, and the serenity of 
his countenance, and his sweetness, and his dis- 
regard of empty fame, and his efforts to under- 
stand things; and how he would never let any- 
thing pass without having first must carefully 
examined it and clearly understood it; and 
how he bore with those who blamed him 
unjustly without blaming them in return ; how 
he did nothing in a hurry; and how he 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 35 

listened not to calumnies, and how exact an 
examiner of manners and actions he was; not 
given to reproach people, nor timid, nor sus- 
picious, nor a sophist ; with how little he was 
satisfied, such as lodging-, bed, dress, food, 
servants ; how laborious and patient ; how spar- 
ing he was in his diet; his firmness, and uni- 
formity in his friendships; how he tolerated 
freedom of speech in those who opposed his 
opinions; the pleasure that he had when any 
man showed him anything better; and how 
pious he was without superstition. Imitate all 
this that thou mayest have as good a con- 
science, when thy last hour comes, as he had. " 

Such peace of mind is indeed an inestimable 
boon, a rich reward of duty fulfilled. Well 
does Epictetus ask, "Is there no reward? Do 
you seek a reward greater than doing what is 
good and just? At Olympia you wish for noth- 
ing more, but it seems to you enough to be 
crowned at the games. Does it then seem to 
you so small and worthless a thing to be good 
and happy?" 

In St. Bernard's beautiful lines — 

"Pax erit ilia fidelibus, ilia beata 

Irrevocabilis, Invariabilis, Intemerata. 

Pax sine crimine, pax sine turbine, pax sine rixa, 

Meta laboribus, inque tumultibus anchora fixa ; 

Pax erit omnibus unica. Sed quibus? immaculatis 

Pectore mitibus; ordine stantibus, ore sacratis." , 

What greater happiness can we have than 
this? 



36 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER III. 

A SONG OF BOOKS.* 

"Oh for a booke and a shadie nooke, 
Ey ther in-a-doore or out ; 
With the grene leaves whispering overhede, 
Or the streete cryes all about. 
Where I maie reade all at my ease, 
Both of the newe and olde ; 
For a jollie goode booke whereon to looke, 
Is better to me than golde." 

—Old English Song. 

Of all the privileges we enjoy in this nine- 
teenth century there is none, perhaps, for 
which we ought to be more thankful than for 
the easier access to books. 

The debt we owe to books was well expressed 
by Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, 
author of Philobiblon, published as long ago 
as 1473, an( i *h e earliest English treatise on 
the delights of literature: — " These are the 
masters who instruct us without rods and 
ferules, without hard words and anger, without 
clothes or money. If you approach them, 
they are not asleep; if investigating you inter- 
rogate them, they conceal nothing; if you 
mistake them, they never grumble ; if you are 
ignorant, they cannot laugh at you. " 

*Delivered at the Working Men's College. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 37 

This feeling that books are real friends is 
constantly present to all who love reading. 

41 1 have friends/' said Petrarch, "whose 
society is extremely agreeable to me; they are 
of all ages and of every country. They have 
distinguished themselves both in the cabinet 
and in the field, and obtained high honors for 
their knowledge of the sciences. It is easy to 
gain access to them, for they are always at my 
service, and I admit them to my company, and 
dismiss them from it, whenever I please. 
They are never troublesome, but immediately 
answer every question I ask them. Some 
relate to me the events of past ages, while 
others reveal to me the secrets of Nature. 
Some teach me how to live, and others how to 
die. Some by their vivacity, drive away my 
cares and exhilarate my spirits; while others 
give fortitude to my mind, and teach me the 
important lesson how to restrain my desires, 
and to depend wholly on myself. They open 
to me, in short, the various avenues of all the 
arts and sciences, and upon their information I 
may safely rely in all emergencies. In return 
for all their services, they only ask me to 
accommodate them with a convenient chamber 
in some corner of my humble habitation, where 
they may repose in peace; for these friends 
are more delighted by the tranquillity of re- 
tirement than with the tumults of society." 

44 He that loveth a book," says Isaac Barrow, 
44 will never want a faithful friend, a whole- 
some counselor, a cheerful companion, an 
effectual comforter. By study, by reading, 



38 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

by thinking, one may innocently divert and 
pleasantly entertain himself, as in all weathers, 
so in all fortunes." 

Southey took a rather more melancholy 
view: 

"My days among the dead are pass'd, 

Around me I behold, 

Where'er these casual eyes are cast, 

The mighty minds of old ; 

My never-failing friends are they, 

With whom I converse day by day." 

Imagine, in the words of Aikin, "that we 
had it in our power to call up the shades of the 
greatest and wisest men that ever existed, and 
oblige them to converse with us on the most 
interesting topics — what an inestimable privi- 
lege should we think it! — how superior to all 
common enjoyments! But in a well- furnished 
library we, in fact, possess this power. We 
can question Xenophon and Caesar on their 
campaigns, make Demosthenes and Cicero 
plead before us, join in the audiences of Soc- 
rates and Plato, and receive demonstrations 
from Euclid and Newton. In books we have 
the choicest thoughts of the ablest men in their 
best dress. " 

44 Books," says Jeremy Collier, "are a guide 
in youth and an entertainment for age. They 
support us under solitude, and keep us from 
being a burthen to ourselves. They help us 
to forget the crossness of men and things; 
compose our cares and our passions ; and lay 
our disappointments asleep. When we are 
weary of the living, we may repair to the dead. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 39 

who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or 
design in their conversation." 

Cicero described a room without books as a 
body without a soul. But it is by no means 
necessary to be a philosopher to love reading. 

Sir John Herschel tells an amusing anecdote 
illustrating the pleasure derived from a book, 
not assuredly of the first order. In a certain 
village the blacksmith had got hold of Richard- 
son's novel, Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, and 
used to sit on his anvil in the long summer 
evenings and read it aloud to a large and 
attentive audience. It is by no means a short 
book, but they fairly listened to it all. "At 
length, when the happy turn of fortune arrived, 
which brings the hero and heroine together, 
and sets them living long and happily accord- 
ing to the most approved rules, the congrega- 
tion were so delighted as to raise a great shout, 
and procuring the church keys, actually set 
the parish bells ringing. ' ' 

"The lover of reading," says Leigh Hunt, 
"will derive agreeable terror from Sir Ber- 
tram and the Haunted Chamber; will assent 
with delighted reason to every sentence in 
Mrs. Barbaula's Essay ; will feel himself wan- 
dering into solitudes with Gray; shake honest 
hands with Sir Roger de Coverley ; be ready 
to embrace Parson Adams, and to chuck 
Pounce out of the window instead of the hat ; 
will travel with Marco Polo and Mungo Park ; 
stay at home with Thomson ; retire with Cow- 
ley ; be industrious with Hutton ; sympathizing 
with Gay and Mrs. Inchbald; laughing with 



40 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

(and at) Buncle ; melancholy, and forlorn, and 
self-restored with the shipwrecked mariner of 
De Foe." 

Carlyle has wisely said that a collection of 
books is a real university. 

The importance of books has been appreci- 
ated in many quarters where we might least 
expect it. Among the hardy Norsemen runes 
were supposed to be endowed with miraculous 
power. There is an Arabic proverb, that t4 a 
wise man's day is worth a fool's life," and 
though it rather perhaps reflects the spirit of 
the Califs than of the Sultans, that "the ink 
of science is more precious than the blood of 
the martyrs." 

Confucius is said to have described himself 
as a man who "in his eager pursuit of knowl- 
edge forgot his food, who in the joy of its 
attainment forgot his sorrows, and did not even 
perceive that old age was coming on." 

Yet, if this could be said by the Chinese and 
the Arabs, what language can be strong enough 
to express the gratitude we ought to feel for 
the advantages we enjoy! We do not appre- 
ciate, I think, our good fortune in belonging to 
the nineteenth century. Sometimes, indeed, 
one may be inclined to wish that one had not 
lived quite so soon, and to long for a glimpse 
of the books, even the school-books, of one 
hundred years hence. A hundred years ago 
not only were books extremely expensive and 
cumbrous, many of the most delightful books 
were still uncreated — such as the works of 
Scott, Thackeray, Dickens, Bulwer Lytton, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 4] 

and Trollope, not to mention living authors. 
How much more interesting science has 
become, especially if I were to mention only- 
one name, through the genius of Darwin! 
Renan has characterized this as a most amusing 
century; I should rather have described it as 
most interesting: presenting us with an end- 
less vista of absorbing problems, with infinite 
opportunities; with more than the excite- 
ments, and less of the dangers, which sur- 
rounded our less fortunate ancestors. 

Reading, indeed, is by no means necessarily 
study. Far from it. "I put," says Mr. 
Frederic Harrison, in his excellent article on 
the " Choice of Books," "I put the poetic and 
emotional side of literature as the most needed 
for daily use. ' ' 

In the prologue to the Legends of Goode 
Women, Chaucer says : 

11 And as for me, though that I konne but lyte, 
On bokes for to rede I me delyte. 
And to him give I feyth and ful credence, 
And in myn herte have him in reverence, 
So hertely, that ther is game noon, 
That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, 
But yt be seldome on the holy day, 
Save, certynly, when that the monthe of May 
Is comen, and that I here the foules synge, 
And that the rloures gynnen for to sprynge, 
Farewel my boke, and my devocion." 

But I doubt whether, if he had enjoyed our 
advantages, he could have been so certain of 
tearing himself away even in the month of 
May. 

Macaulay, who had all that wealth and fame, 



42 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

rank ana talents could give, yet, we are told, 
derived his greatest happiness from books. 
Sir G. Trevelyan, in his charming biography 
says that — "of the feelings which Macaulay 
entertained toward the great minds of bygone 
ages it is not for any one except himself to 
speak. He has told us how his debt to them 
was incalculable; how they guided him to 
truth; how they filled his mind with noble and 
graceful images ; how they stood by him in all 
vicissitudes — comforters in sorrow, nurses in 
sickness, companions in solitude, the old 
friends who are never seen with new faces; 
who are the same in wealth and in poverty, in 
glory and in obscurity. Great as were the 
honors and possessions which Macaulay 
acquired by his pen, all who knew him were 
well aware that the titles and rewards which 
he gained by his own works were as nothing 
in the balance as compared with the pleasure 
he derived from the works of others." 

There was no society in London so agreeable 
that Macaulay would have preferred it at 
breakfast or at dinner "to the company of 
Sterne or Fielding, Horace Walpole, or Bos- 
well.' ' 

The love of reading which Gibbon declared 
he would not exchange for all the treasures of 
India was, in fact, with Macaulay "a main 
element of happiness in one of the happiest 
lives that it has ever fallen to the lot of the 
biographer to record. ' ' 

"History," says Fuller, "maketh a young 
man to be old without either wrinkles or gray 






THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 43 

hair, privileging him with the experience of 
age without either the infirmities or the incon- 
veniences thereof. " 

So delightful, indeed, are our books that we 
must be careful not to neglect other duties for 
them; in cultivating the mind we must not 
neglect the body. 

To the lover of literature or science exercise 
often presents itself as an irksome duty, and 
many a one has felt like "the fair pupil of 
Ascham, who, while the horns were sounding 
and dogs in full cry, sat in the lonely oriel with 
eyes riveted to that immortal page which tells 
how meekly and bravely the first martyr of 
intellectual liberty took the cup from his 
weeping jailor. " 

Still, as the late Lord Derby justly observed, 
those who do not find time for exercise will 
have to find time for illness. 

Books are now so cheap as to be within the 
reach of almost every one. This was not 
always so. It is quite a recent blessing. Mr. 
Ireland, to whose charming little Book Lover's 
Enchiridion, in common with every lover of 
reading, I am greatly indebted, tells us that 
when a boy he was so delighted with White's 
Natural History of Selborne, that in order to 
possess a copy of his own he actually copied out 
the whole work. 

Mary Lamb gives a pathetic description of 
a studious boy lingering at a bookstall : 

M I saw a boy with eager eye » 

Open a book upon a stall, 
And read, as he'd devour it all; 



44 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Which, when the stall-man did espy, 
Soon to the boy I heard him call, 
'You, sir, you never buy a book, 
Therefore in one you shall not look. ' 
The boy passed slowly on, and with a sigh 
He wished he never had been taught to read, 
Then of the old churl's books he should have had no 
need." 

Such snatches of literature have, indeed, a 
special and peculiar charm. This is, I believe, 
partly due to the very fact of their being brief. 
Many readers, I think, miss much of the pleas- 
ure of reading by forcing themselves to dwell 
too long continuously on one subject. In a 
long railway journey, for instance, many per- 
sons take only a single book. The conse- 
quence is that, unless it is a story, after half 
an hour or an hour they are quite tired of it. 
Whereas, if they had two, or still better three, 
on different subjects, and one of them being of 
an amusing character, they would probably 
find that by changing as soon as they felt at all 
weary, they would come back again and again 
to each with renewed zest, and hovir after hour 
pass pleasantly away. Every one, of course, 
must judge for himself, but such at least is my 
experience. 

I quite agree, therefore, with Lord Idde- 
sleigh, as to the charm of desultory reading, 
but the wider the field the more important that 
we should benefit by the very best books in 
each class. Not that we need confine ourselves 
to them, but that we should commence with 
them, and they will certainly lead us on to 
others. There are of course some books which 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 45 

we must read, mark, learn, and inwardly di- 
gest. But these are exceptions. As regards by- 
far the larger number, it is probably better to 
read them quickly, dwelling only on the best 
and most important passages. In this way, no 
doubt, we shall lose much, but we gain more 
by ranging over a wider field. We may, in 
fact, I think, apply to reading Lord Brough- 
am's wise dictum as regards education, and 
say that it is well to read everything of some- 
thing and something of everything. In this 
way only we can ascertain the bent of our own 
tastes, for it is a general, though not of course 
an invariable rule, that we profit little by 
books which we do not enjoy. 

Every one, however, may suit himself. 
The variety is endless. 

We may sit in our library and yet be in all 
quarters of the earth. We may travel round 
the world with Captain Cook or Darwin, with 
Kingsley or Ruskin, who will show us much 
more perhaps than ever we should see for our- 
selves. The world itself has no limits for us; 
Humboldt and Herschel will carry us far 
away to the mysterious nebulae, far beyond the 
sun and even the stars; time has no more 
bounds than space ; history stretches out be- 
hind us, and geology will carry us back for mil- 
lions of years before the creation of man, even 
to the origin of the material Universe itself. 
We are not limited even to one plane of 
thought. Aristotle and Plato will transport us 
into a sphere none the less delightful because 
it acquires some training to appreciate it. We 



46 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

may make a library, if we do but rightly use 
it, a true paradise on earth, a garden of Eden 
without its one drawback, for all is open to us, 
including and especially the fruit of the tree 
of knowledge for which we are told that our 
first mother sacrificed all the rest. Here we 
may read the most important histories, the 
most exciting volumes of travels and adven- 
tures, the most interesting stories, the most 
beautiful poems, we may meet the most emi- 
nent statesmen and poets and philosophers, 
benefit by the ideas of the greatest thinkers, 
and enjoy all the greatest creations of human 
genius. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 47 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.* 

* 'All round the room my silent servants wait — 
My friends in every season, bright and dim, 

Angels and Seraphim 
Come down and murmur to me, sweet and low, 
And spirits of the skies all come and go 

Early and late. ' ' —Proctor. 

And yet too often they wait in vain. One 
reason for this is, I think, that people are 
overwhelmed by the crowd of books offered to 
them. There are books and books, and there 
are books which, as Lamb said, are not books 
at all. 

In old days books were rare and dear. Our 
ancestors had a difficulty in procuring them. 
Our difficulty now is what to select. We 
must be careful what we read, and not like the 
sailors of Ulysses, take bags of wind for sacks 
of treasure — not only lest we should even now 
fall into the error of the Greeks, and suppose 
that language and definitions can be instru- 
ments of investigation as well as of thought, 
but lest, as too often happens, we should 
waste time over trash. There are many books 
to which one may apply in the sarcastic sense 
the ambiguous remark said to have been 

* Delivered at the London Working Men's College. 



48 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

made to an unfortunate author, "I will lose 
no time in reading your book. " 

It is wonderful, indeed, how much innocent 
happiness we thoughtlessly throw away. An 
Eastern proverb says that calamities sent by 
heaven may be avoided, but from those we 
bring on ourselves there is no escape. 

Many, I believe, are deterred from attempt- 
ing what are called stiff books for fear they 
should not understand them ; but, as Hobbes 
said, there are few who need complain of the 
narrowness of their minds, if only they would 
do their best with them. 

In reading, however, it is most important to 
select subjects in which one is interested. I 
remember years ago consulting Mr. Darwin as 
to the selection of a course of stud}^. He asked 
me what interested me most, and advised me 
to choose that subject. This, indeed, applies 
to the work of life generally. 

I am sometimes disposed to think that the 
great readers of the next generation will be, 
not our lawyers and doctors, shopkeepers and 
manufacturers, but the laborers and mechanics. 
Does not this seem natural? The former work 
mainly with their head; when their daily 
duties are over the brain is often exhausted, 
and of their leisure time much must be devoted 
to air and exercise. The laborer and me- 
chanic, on the contrary, besides working often 
for much shorter hours, have in their work- 
time taken sufficient bodily exercise, and could, 
therefore, give any leisure they might have to 
reading and study. They have not done so as 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 49 

yet, it is true ; but this has been for obvious 
reasons. Now, however, in the first place, 
they receive an excellent education in elemen- 
tary schools, and in the second have more easy 
access to the best books. 

Ruskin has observed he does not wonder at 
what men suffer, but he often wonders at what 
they lose. We suffer much, no doubt, from 
the faults of others, but we lose much more by 
our own ignorance. 

It is one thing to own a library; it is, how- 
ever, another to use it wisely. "If," says Sir 
John Herschel, 4< I were to pray for a taste 
which should stand me in stead under every 
variety of circumstances, and be a source of 
happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, 
and a shield against its ills, however things 
might go amiss and the world frown upon me, 
it would be a taste for reading. I speak of it 
of course only as a worldly advantage, and not 
in the slightest degree as superseding or 
derogating from the higher office and surer and 
stronger panoply of religious principles — but 
as a taste, an instrument, and a mode of pleas- 
urable gratification. Give a man this taste, 
and the means of gratifying it, and you can 
hardly fail of making a happy man, unless, 
indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse 
selection of books. ' ' 

I have often been astonished how little care 
people devote to the selection of what they 
read. Books, we know, are almost innumer- 
able; our hours for reading are, alas! very 
few. And yet many people read almost by 

4 Pleasures 



50 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

hazard. They will take any book they chance 
to find in a room at a friend's house; they 
will buy a novel at a railway-stall if it has an 
attractive title ; indeed, I believe in some cases 
even the binding affects their choice. The 
selection is, no doubt, far from easy. I have 
often wished some one would recommend a 
list of a hundred good books. If we had such 
lists drawn up by a few good guides they 
would be most useful. I have indeed some- 
times heard it said that in reading every one 
must choose for himself, but this reminds me 
of the recommendation not to go into the 
water till you can swim. 

In the absence of such lists I have picked out 
the books most frequently mentioned with 
approval by those who have referred directly 
or indirectly to the pleasure of reading, and 
have ventured to include some which, though 
less frequently mentioned, are especial favor- 
ites of my own. Every one who looks at the 
list will wish to suggest other books, as, indeed, 
I should myself, but in that case the number 
would soon run up. 

I have abstained, for obvious reasons, from 
mentioning works by living authors, though 
from many of them — Tennyson, Ruskin, and 
others — I have myself derived the keenest en- 
joyment ; and have omitted works on science, 
with one or two exceptions because the sub- 
ject is so progressive. 

I feel that the attempt is over bold, and I 
must beg for indulgence; but, indeed, one 
object which I had in view is to stimulate 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 51 

others more competent far than I am to give 
us the advantage of their opinions. 

Moreover, I must repeat that I suggest these 
works rather as those which, as far as I have 
seen, have been most frequently recom- 
mended, than as suggestions of my own, 
though I have slipped in a few of my own 
special favorites. 

In the absence of such lists we may fall back 
' on the general verdict of mankind. There, is 
a *' struggle for existence* ' and a ** survival of 
the fittest' ' among books, as well as among 
animals and plants. As Alonzo of Aragon said, 
4 'Age is a recommendation in four things — 
old wood to burn, old wine to drink, old friends 
to trust, and old books to read. " Still, this 
cannot be accepted without important qualifi- 
cations. The most recent books of history and 
science contain, or ought to contain, the most 
accurate information and the most trustworthy 
conclusions. Moreover, while the books of 
other races and times have an interest from 
their very distance, it must be admitted that 
many will still more enjoy, and feel more at 
home with, those of our own century and 
people. 

Yet the oldest books of the world are remark- 
able and interesting on account of their very 
age ; and the works which have influenced the 
opinions, or charmed the leisure hours, of mil- 
lions of men in distant times and far-away re- 
gions are well worth reading on that very 
account, even if they seem scarcely to deserve 
their reputation. It is true that to many of us 



52 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

such works are accessible only in translations; 
but translations, though they can never per- 
haps do justice to the original, may yet be 
admirable in themselves. The Bible itself, 
which must stand first in the list, is a conclu- 
sive case. 

At the head of all non-Christian moralists, I 
must place the Enchiridion of Epictetus, cer- 
tainly one of the noblest books in the whole of 
literature; so short, moreover, so accessible, 
and so well translated that it is always a source 
of wonder to me that it is so little read. 
With Epictetus I think must come Marcus 
Aurelius. The Analects of Confucius will, I 
believe, prove disappointing to most English 
readers, but the effect if has produced on the 
most numerous race of men constitutes in itself 
a peculiar interest. The Ethics of Aristotle, 
perhaps, appear to some disadvantage from 
the very fact that they have so profoundly in- 
fluenced our views of morality. The Koran, 
like the Analects of Confucius, will to most 
of us derive its principal interest from the 
effect it has exercised, and still exercises, on 
so many millions of our fellow-men. I doubt 
whether in any other respect it will seem to 
repay perusal, and to most persons probably 
certain extracts, not too numerous, would ap- 
pear sufficient. 

The writings of the Apostolic Fathers have 
been collected in one volume by Wake. It is 
but a small one, and though I must humbly 
confess that I was disappointed, they are per- 
haps all the more curious from the contrast 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 53 

they afford to those of the Apostles themselves. 
Of the later Fathers I have included only 
the Confessions of St. Augustine, which Dr. 
Pusey selected for the commencement of the 
Library of the Fathers and which, as he 
observes, has "been translated again and again 
into almost every European language, and in 
all loved ;" though Luther was of opinion that 
he " wrote nothing to the purpose concerning 
faith ;" but then Luther was no great admirer 
of the Fathers. St. Jerome, he says, "writes, 
alas! very coldly ;" Chrysostom "digresses 
from the chief points ;" St. Jerome is "very 
poor;" and in fact, he says, "the more I read 
the books of the Fathers the more I find my- 
self offended;" while Renan, in his interesting 
autobiography, compared theology to a Gothic 
Cathedral, "elle a la grandeur, les vides irn- 
menses, et le peu de soldite. '* 

Among other devotional works most fre- 
quently recommended are Thomas a Kempis's 
Imitation of Christ, Pascal's Pensees, Spinoza's 
Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, Butler's An- 
alogy of Religion, Jeremy Taylor's Holy Living 
and Dying, Keble's beautiful Christian Year, 
and last, not least, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress. 

Aristotle and Plato again stand at the head 
of another class. The Politics of Aristotle, 
and Plato's Dialogues, if not the whole, at any 
rate the Phaedo, the Apology, and the Repub- 
lic, will be of course read by all who wish to 
know anything of the history of human 
thought, though I am heretical enough to 



54 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

doubt whether the latter repays the minute and 
laborious study often devoted to it. 

Aristotle being the father, if not the creator, 
of the modern scientific method, it has fol- 
lowed naturally — indeed, almost inevitably — 
that his principles have become part of our 
very intellectual being, so that they seem now 
almost self-evident, while his actual observa- 
tions, though very remarkable, as, for instance, 
when he observes that bees on one journey 
confine themselves to one kind of flower — still 
have been in many cases superseded by others 
carried on under more favorable conditions. 
We must not be ungrateful to the great master, 
because his own lessons have taught us how 
to advance. 

Plato, on the other hand, I say so with all 
respect, seems to me in some cases to play on 
words: his arguments are very able, very phil- 
osophical, often very noble; but not always 
conclusive; in a language differently con- 
structed they might sometimes tell in exactly 
the opposite sense. If this method has proved 
less fruitful, if in metaphysics we have made 
but little advance, that very fact in one point 
of view leaves the Dialogues of Socrates as 
instructive now as ever they were ; while the 
problems with which they deal will always 
rouse our interest, as the calm and lofty spirit 
which inspires them must command our admir- 
ation. 

I would also mention Demosthenes's De 
Corona, which Lord Brougham pronounced 
the greatest oration of the greatest of orators; 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 55 

Lucretius, Plutarch's Lives, Horace, and at 
least the De Officiis, De Amicitia and De 
Senectute of Cicero. 

The great epics of the world have always 
constituted one of the most popular branches 
of literature. Yet how few, comparatively, 
ever read the Iliad or Odyssey, Hesiod or 
Virgil, after leaving school. 

The Nibelungenlied, our great Anglo-Saxon 
epic, is perhaps too much neglected, no doubt 
on account of its painful character. Brunhild 
and Kriemhild, indeed, are far from perfect, 
but we meet with few such "live" women in 
Greek or Roman literature. Nor must I omit 
to mention Sir T. Malory's Morte d' Arthur, 
though I confess I do so mainly in deference to 
the judgment of others. 

Among the Greek tragedians, JEschylus, if 
not all his works, at any rate Prometheus, per- 
haps the sublimest poem in Greek literature, 
and the Triology (Mr. Symonds in his Greek 
Poets speaks of the "unrivaled majesty' ' of the 
Agamemnon, and Mark Pattison considered it 
"the grandest work of creative genius in the 
whole range of literature'') ; or, as Mr. Grant 
Duff recommends, the Persae; Sophocles 
(JEdipus Tyrannus), Euripides (Medea), and 
Aristophanes (The Knights and Clouds) ; 
Schlegel says that probably even the greatest 
scholar does not understand half his jokes; 
though I think most modern readers will prefer 
our modern poets. 

I should like, moreover, to say a word for 
Eastern poetry, such as portions of the Maha 



56 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Bharata and Ramayana (too long probably 
to be read through, but of which Talboys 
Wheeler has given a most interesting epitome 
in the two first volumes of his History of 
India) ; the Shah-nameh, the work of the great 
Persian poet, Firdusi; and the Sheking, the 
classical collection of ancient Chinese odes. 
Many, I know, will think I ought to have in- 
cluded Omar Khayyam. 

In history we are beginning to feel that the 
vices and vicissitudes of kings and queens, 
the dates of battles and wars, are far less im- 
portant than the development of human 
thought, the progress of art, of science, and of 
law, and the subject is on that very account 
even more interesting than ever. I will, how- 
ever, only mention, and that rather from a 
literary than a historical point of view, Herod- 
otus, Xenophon (the Anabasis), Thucydides, 
and Tacitus (Germania) ; and of modern histo- 
rians, Gibbon's Decline and Fall, Hume's His- 
tory of England, Carlyle's French Revolution, 
Grote's History of Greece, and Green's Short 
History of the English People. 

Science is so rapidly progressive that, though 
to many minds it is the most fruitful and 
interesting subject of all, I cannot here rest on 
that agreement which, rather than my own 
opinion, I take as the basis of my list. I will 
therefore only mention Bacon's Novum Or- 
ganum, Mill's Logic, and Darwin's Origin of 
Species ; in Political Economy, which some of 
our rulers now scarcely seem sufficiently to 
value, Mill, and parts of Smith's Wealth of 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 57 

Nations, for probably those who do not intend to 
make a special study of political economy 
would scarcely read the whole. 

Among voyages and travels, perhaps those 
most frequently suggested are Cook's Voy- 
ages, Humboldt's Travels, and Darmin's 
Naturalist's Journal; though I confess I should 
like to have added many more. 

Mr. Bright not long ago specially recom- 
mended the less known American poets, but 
he probably assumed that every one would 
have read Shakespeare, Milton (Paradise Lost, 
Lycidas, and minor poems), Chaucer, Dante, 
Spenser, Dryden, Scott, Wordsworth, Pope, 
Southey, Byron, and others, before embarking 
on more doubtful adventures. 

Among other books most frequently recom- 
mended are Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield, 
Swift's Gulliver's Travels, Defoe's Robinson 
Crusoe, The Arabian Nights, Don Quixote, 
Boswell's Life of Johnson, White's Natural 
History of Selborne, Burke's Select Works 
(Payne), the Essays of Bacon, Addison, Hume, 
Montaigne, Macaulay, and Emerson; the 
plays of Moliere and Sheridan; Carlyle's Past 
and Present, Smiles's Self-Help, and Goethe's 
Faust and Autobiography. 

Nor can one go wrong in recommending 
Berkeley's Human Knowledge, Descartes's 
Discourse sur la Methode, Locke's Conduct of the 
Understanding, Lewes's History of Philos- 
ophy; while, in order to keep within the num- 
ber one hundred, I can only mention Moliere 
and Sheridan among dramatists. Macaulay 



58 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

considered Marivaux's La Vie de Marianne the 
best novel in any language, but my number 
is so nearly complete that I must content my- 
self with English; and will suggest Miss 
Austen (either Emma or Pride and Prejudice), 
Thackeray (Vanity Fair and Pendennis), Dick- 
ens (Pickwick and David Copperfield), G. 
Eliot (Adam Bede or The Mill on the Floss), 
Kingsley (Westward Ho!), Lytton (Last Days 
of Pompeii), and last, not least, those of Scott, 
which, indeed, constitute a library in them- 
selves, but which I must ask, in return for my 
trouble, to be allowed, as a special favor, to 
count as one. 

To any lover of books the very mention of 
these names brings back a crowd of delicious 
memories, grateful recollections of peaceful 
home hours, after the labors and anxieties of 
the day. How thankful we ought to be for 
these inestimable blessings, for this number- 
less host of friends who never weary, betray, 
or forsake us! 

LIST OF 100 BOOKS. 

Works by Living Authors are omitted. 

The Bible 

The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius 

Epictetus 

Aristotle's Ethics 

Analects of Confucius 

St. Hilaire's "Le Bouddha et sa religion" 

Wake's Apostolic Fathers 

Thos. a Kempis's Imitation of Christ 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 59 

Confessions of St. Augustine (Dr. Pusey) 

The Koran (portions of) 

Spinoza's Tractatus Theologico-Politicus 

Comte's Catechism of Positive Philosophy 

Pascal's Pensees 

Butler's Analogy of Religion 

Taylor's Holy Living and Dying 

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress 

Keble's Christian Year 



Plato's Dialogues; at any rate, the Apology, 
Phaedo, and Republic 

Xenophon's Memorabilia 

Aristotle's Politics 

Demosthenes's De Corona 

Cicero's De Officiis, De Amicitia, and De 
Senectute 

Plutarch's Lives 

Berkeley's Human Knowledge 

Descartes's Discours sur la Methode 

Locke's On the Conduct of the Understand- 
ing. 



Homer 
Hesiod 
Virgil 

{Epitomized in Talboys 
Wheeler's History of 
India, vols. i. and ii. 
Ramayana 
The Shahnameh 
The Nibelungenlied 
Malory's Morte d'Arthur 
The Sheking 



60 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

iEschylus's Prometheus 

Trilogy of Orestes 
Sophocles's CEdipus 
Euripides's Medea 

Aristophane's The Knights and Clouds 
Horace 
Lucretius 
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales (Perhaps in 

Morris's edition; or, if expurgated, in 

C.Clarke's or Mrs. Haweis's) 
Shakespeare 
Milton's Paradise Lost, Lycidas, and the 

shorter poems 
Dante's Divina Commedia 
Spenser's Fairie Queen 
Dryden's Poems 
Scott's Poems 

Wordsworth (Mr. Arnold's selection) 
Southey's Thalaba the Destroyer 

The Curse of Kehama 
Pope's Essay on Criticism 

Essay on Man 

Rape of the Lock 
Burns 

Byron's Childe Harold 
Gray 



Herodotus 

Xenophon's Anabasis 

Thucydides 

Tacitus's Germania 

Livy 

Gibbon's Decline and Fall 

Hume's History of England 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 61 

Grote's History of Greece 
Carlyle's French Revolution 
Green's Short History of England 
Lewes's History of England 



Arabian Nights 

Swift's Gulliver's Travels 

Defoe's Robinson Crusoe 

Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield 

Cervantes's Don Quixote 

Boswell's Life of Johnson 

Moliere 

Sheridan's The Critic, School for Scandal, 

and The Rivals 
Carlyle's Past and Present 



Smiles's Self-Help 

Bacon's Novum Organum 

Smith's Wealth of Nations (part of) 

Mill's Political Economy 

Cook's Voyages 

Humboldt's Travels 

White's Natural History of Selborne 

Darwin's Origin of Species 

Naturalist's Voyage 
Mill's Logic 



Bacon's Essays 
Montaigne's Essays 
Hume's Essays 
Macaulay's Essays 
Addison's Essays 
Emerson's Essays 
Burke's Select works 



62 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Voltaire's Zadig 

Goethe's Faust, and Autobiography 

Miss Austen's Emma, or Pride and Preju- 
dice 

Thackeray's Vanity Fair 
Pendennis 

Dickens's Pickwick 
David Copperfield 

Lytton's Last days of Pompeii 

George Eliot's Adam Bede 

Kingsley's Westward Ho! 

Scott's Novels 






THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 63 



CHAPTER V. 

THE BLESSING OF FRIENDS.* 

"They seem to take away the sun from the world who 
withdrew friendship from life; for we have received 
nothing better from the Immortal Gods, nothing more 
delightful. ' ' — Cicero. 

Most of those who have written in praise of 
books have thought they could say nothing 
better of them than to compare them to 
friends. 

Socrates said that "all people have their 
different objects of ambition — horses, dogs, 
money, honor, as the case man be ; but for 
his own part he would rather have a good 
friend than all these put together." And 
again, men know "the number of their other 
possessions, although they might be very 
numerous, but of their friends, though but 
few, they were not only ignorant of the num- 
ber, but even when they attempted to reckon 
it to such as asked them, they set aside again 
some that they had previously counted among 
their friends; so little did they allow their 
friends to occupy their thoughts. Yet in com- 
parison with what possession, of all others, 

*The substance of this was delivered at the London 
Working Men's College. 



64 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

would not a good friend appear far more val- 
uable?" 

44 As to the value of other things/' says 
Cicero, "most men differ; concerning friend- 
ship all have the same opinion.'* What can be 
more foolish than, when men are possessed of 
great influence by their wealth, power, and 
resources, to procure other things which are 
bought by money — horses, slaves, rich apparel, 
costly vases — and not to procure friends, the 
most valuable and fairest furniture of life?" 
And yet, he continues, 44 every man can tell 
how many goats or sheep he possesses, but not 
how many friends." In the choice, moreover, 
of a dog or of a horse, we exercise the greatest 
care : we" inquire into its pedigree, its training 
and character, and yet we too often leave the 
selection of our friends, which is of infinitely 
greater importance — by whom our whole life 
will be more or less influenced either for good 
or evil — almost to chance. 

No doubt, much as worthy friends add to the 
happiness and value of life, we must in the 
main depend on ourselves, and every one is his 
own best friend or worst enemy. 

Sad, indeed, is Bacon's assertion that <4 there 
is little friendship in the world, and least of all 
between equals, which was wont to be mag- 
nified. That that is, is between superior and 
inferior, whose fortunes may comprehend the 
one to the other." But this can hardly be 
taken as his deliberate opinion, for he else- 
where says, "but we may go farther, and affirm 
most truly, that it is a mere and miserable sol- 




In the choice of a horse we exercise care." — Page 64. 

Pleasures of Life. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 65 

itude to want true friends, without which the 
world is but a wilderness. ' ' Not only, he adds, 
does friendship introduce " daylight in the 
understanding out of darkness and confusion of 
thoughts;" it "maketh a fair day in the affec- 
tions from storm and tempests:" in consulta- 
tion with a friend a man "tosseth his thoughts 
more easily; he marshaleth them more orderly; 
he seeth how they look when they are turned 
into words; finally, he waxeth wiser than him- 
self, and that more by an hour's discourse than 
by a day's meditation. " . . . " But little do 
men perceive what solitude is, and how far it 
extendeth, for a crowd is not company, and 
faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but 
a tinkling cymbal where there is no love. ' ' 

With this I cannot altogether concur. 
Surely even strangers may be most interest- 
ing! and many will agree with Dr. Johnson 
when, describing a pleasant evening, he 
summed it up — "Sir, we had a good talk. " 

It is no doubt true, as the Autocrat of the 
Breakfast Table says, that all men are bores 
except when we want them. And Sir Thomas 
Browne quaintly observes that "unthinking 
heads who have not learnt to be alone are a 
prison to themselves if they be not with others ; 
whereas, on the contrary, those whose thoughts 
are in a fair and hurry within, are sometimes 
fain to retire into company to be out of the 
crowd of themselves. Still I do not quite 
understand Emerson's idea that "men descend 
to meet. ' ' In another place, indeed, he quali- 
fies the statement, and says, "Almost all peo- 

5 Pleasures 



66 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

pie descend to meet. " Even so I should ven- 
ture to question it, especially considering the 
context. " All associations, " he adds, " must be 
a compromise, and, what is worse, the very 
flower and aroma of the flower of each of the 
beautiful natures disappears as they approach 
each other. ' ' What a sad thought ! Is it really 
so? Need it be so? And if it were so, would 
friends be any real advantage? I should have 
thought that the influence of friends was ex- 
actly the reverse : that the flower of a beauti- 
ful nature would expand, and the colors grow 
brighter, when stimulated by the warmth and 
sunshine of friendship. 

Much certainly of the happiness and purity 
of our lives depends on our making a wise 
choice of our companions and friends. Many 
people seem to trust :n this matter to the chap- 
ter of accident. It is well and right, indeed, 
to be courteous and considerate to. every one 
with whom one is thrown into contact, but to 
choose them as real friendc is another matter. 
Some seem to make a man a friend, or try to 
do so, because he lives near, because he is in 
the same business, travels on the same line of 
railway, or for some other trival reason. 
There cannot be a greater mistake. These are 
only, in the words of Plutarch, "the idols and 
images of friendship." If our friends are 
badly chosen they will inevitably drag us 
down; if well they will raise i:s up. To be 
friendly with every one is another matter ; we 
must remember that there is no little enemy, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. G7 

and those \yho have ever really loved any one, 
will have some tenderness for all. 

There is, indeed, some good in most men. 
"I have heard much," says Mr. Nasmyth in 
his charming autobiography, "about the in- 
gratitude and selfishness of the world. It may 
have been my good fortune, but I have never 
experienced either of these unfeeling condi- 
tions. ' ' Such also has been my own experi- 
ence. 

"Men talk of unkind hearts, kind deeds 

With deeds unkind returning. 
Alas ! the gratitude of men 

Has oftener left me mourning. M 

I cannot, then, agree with Emerson that "we 
walk alone in the world. Friends such as we 
desire are dreams and fables. But a sublime 
hope cheers ever the faithful heart, that else- 
where in other regions of the universal power 
souls are now acting, enduring, and daring, 
which can love us, and which we can love. * ' 

Epictetus gives very good advice when he 
dissuades from conversation on the very sub- 
jects most commonly chosen, and advises that 
it should be on "none of the common subjects 
— not about gladiators, nor horse-races, nor 
about athletes, nor about eating or drinking, 
which are the usual subjects; and especially 
not about men, as blaming them;" but when 
he adds, "or praising them," the injunction 
seems to me of doubtful value. Surely Marcus 
Aurelius more wisely advises that "when thou 
wishest to delight thyself, think of the virtues 



€8 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

of those who live with thee ; for instance, the 
activity of one, and the modesty of another, 
and the liberality of a third, and some other 
good quality of a fourth. For nothing delights 
so much as the examples of the virtues, when 
they are exhibited in the morals of those who 
live with us and present themselves in abund- 
ance, as far as is possible. Wherefore me must 
keep them before us." Yet how often we 
know merely the sight of those we call our 
friends, or the sound of their voices, but noth- 
ing whatever of their mind or soul. 

We must, moreover, be as careful to keep 
friends as to make them. The affections 
should not be mere "tents of a night." 
Friendship gives no privilege to make ourselves 
disagreeable. Some people never seem to 
appreciate their friends till they have lost 
them. Anxagoras described the Mausoleum 
as the ghost of wealth turned into stone. 

"But he who has once stood beside the grave 
to look back on the companionship which has 
been forever closed, feeling how impotent then 
are the wild love and the keen sorrow, to give 
one instant's pleasure to the pulseless heart, or 
atone in the lowest measure to the departed 
spirit for the hour of unkindness, will scarcely 
for the future incur that debt to the heart which 
can only be discharged to the dust." 

Death, indeed, cannot sever friendship. 
"Friends, though absent, are still present, 
though in poverty they are rich ; though weak, 
yet in the enjoyment of health ; and, what is 
still more difficult to assert, though dead they 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 6& 

are alive. ' 9 This seems a paradox, yet is there 
not much truth in his explanation? "To me, 
indeed, Scipio still lives, and will always live : 
for I love the virtue of that man, and that 
worth is not yet extinguished. . . . Assuredly 
of all things that either fortune or time has 
bestowed on me, I have none which I can com- 
pare with the friendship of Scipio. " 

If, then, we choose our friends for what they 
are, not for what they have, and if we deserve 
so great a blessing, then they will be always 
with us, preserved in absence, and even after 
death in the 4< amber of memory." 



70 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE VALUE OF TIME.* 

Each day is a little life. 

All other good gifts depend on time for their 
value. What are friends, books, or health, the 
interest of travel or the delights of home, if 
we have not time for their enjoyment? Time 
is often said to be money, but it is more — it is 
life ; and yet many who would cling desper- 
ately to life, think nothing of wasting time. 

Ask of the wise, says Schiller in Lord Sher- 
b>rooke's translation, 

"The moments we forego 
Eternity itself cannot retrieve." 

And in the words of Dante, 

"For who knows most, him loss of time most grieves." 

Not that a life of drudgery should be our 
ideal. Far from it. Time spent in innocent 
and rational enjoyments, in social and family 
intercourse, in healthy games, is well and 
wisely spent. Games not only keep the body 
in health, but give a command over the 
muscles and limbs which cannot be overvalued. 



* The substance of this was delivered at the Polytech- 
nic Institution. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 71 

Moreover, there are temptations which strong 
exercise best enables us to resist. 

It is generally the idle who complain they 
cannot find time to do that which they fancy 
they wish. In truth, people can generally find 
time for what they choose to do ; it is not really 
the time but the will that is wanting: and the 
advantage of leisure is mainly that we may 
have the power of choosing our own work ; not 
certainly that it confers any privilege of idle- 
ness. 

For it is not so much the hours that tell as 
the way we use them. 

"Circles are praised, not that excel 
In largeness, but th* exactly framed ; 
So life we praise, that does excel 
Not in much time, but acting well." 

"Idleness, " says Jeremy Taylor, "is the 
greatest prodigality in the world; it throws 
away that which is invaluable in respect of its 
present use, and irreparable when it is past, 
being to be recovered by no power of art or 
nature." 

"A counted number of pulses only," says 
Pater, "is given to us of a variegated aromatic 
life. How may we see in them all that is to be 
seen in them by the finest senses? How can 
we pass most swiftly from point to point, and 
be present always at the focus where the great- 
est number of vital forces unite in their purest 
energy? 

"To burn always with this hard gem-like 
flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in 



72 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

life. Failure is to form habits; for habit is 
relation to a stereotyped world . . . while all 
melts under our feet, we may well catch at any 
exquisite passion, or any contribution to knowl- 
edge that seems, by a lifted horizon, to set the 
spirit free for a moment." 

I would not quote Lord Chesterfield as gen- 
erally a safe guide, but there is certainly much 
shrewd wisdom in his advice to his son with 
reference to time. '* Every moment you now 
lose, is so much character and advantage lost: 
as on the other hand, every moment you now 
employ usefully, is so much time wisely laid 
out, at prodigious interest." 

And again, "It is astonishing that any one 
can squander away in absolute idleness one 
single moment of that small portion of time 
which is allotted to us in the world. . . . Know 
the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy 
every moment of it. " 

"Are you in earnest? seize this very minute 
What you can do, or think you can, begin it. ' ' 

I remember, says Hillard, "a satirical poem, 
in which the devil is represented as fishing for 
men, and adapting his bait to the tastes and 
temperaments of his prey; but the idlers were 
the easiest victims, for they swallowed even 
the naked hook." The mind of the idler 
indeed preys upon itself. 

44 The human heart is like a millstone in a 
mill ; when you put wheat under it, it turns 
and grinds and bruises the wheat to flour; if 



( 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 73 

you put no wheat, it still grinds on— and grinds i 
itself away. " ^ 

It is not work, but care, that kills, and it is 
in this sense, I suppose, that we are told to 
"take no thought for the morrow. " To "con- 
sider the lilies of the field, how they grow; 
they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet 
even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed 
like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe 
the grass of the field, which to-day is, and 
to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not 
much more clothe you, O ye of little faith ?" 
It would, indeed, be a mistake to suppose that 
the lilies are idle or imprudent. . On the con- 
trary, like all plants, they are most industrious, 
and store up in their complex bulbs a great part 
of the nourishment of one year to quicken the 
growth of the next. Care, on the other hand, 
they certainly know not. 

Wasted time is worse than no time at all ; "I 
wasted time," says Richard II., "and now doth 
time waste me. ' ' 

"Hours have wings, fly up to the author of 
time, and carry news of our usage. All our 
prayers cannot entreat one of them either to 
return or slacken his pace." "The misspents 
of every minute are a new record against us in 
heaven. Sure if we thought thus, we should 
dismiss them with better reports, and not 
suffer them to fly away empty, or laden with 
dangerous intelligence. How happy is it when 
they carry up not only the message, but the 
fruits of good, and stay with the Ancient of 



74 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Days to speak for us before His glorious 
throne." 

44 He that is choice of his time," says Jeremy 
Taylor, "will also be choice of his company, 
and choice of his actions; lest the first engage 
him in vanity and loss, and the latter, by 
being criminal, be a throwing his time and 
himself away, and a going back in the accounts 
of eternity.' ' 

If we deduct the time required for sleep, for 
meals, for dressing, and undressing, for exer- 
cise, etc., how little of our life is really at our 
own disposal! 

"I have lived," said Lamb, "nominally fifty 
years, but deduct from them the hours I have 
lived for other people, and not for myself, and 
you will find me still a young fellow. ' ' 

It is not, however, the hours we live for other 
people which should be deducted, but those 
which benefit neither oneself nor any one else ; 
and these, alas! are often very numerous. 

It is wonderful, indeed, how much innocent 
happiness we thoughtlessly throw away. An 
Eastern proverb says that calamities sent by 
heaven may be avoided, but from those we 
bring ourselves there is no escape. 

Some years ago I paid a visit to the principal 
lake villages of Switzerland in company with 
a distinguished archaeologist, M. Morlot. To 
my surprise I found that his whole income was 
^ioo a year, part of which, moreover, he spent 
in making a small museum. I asked him 
whether he contemplated accepting any post or 
office, but he said certainly not. He valued 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 75 

his leisure and opportunities as priceless pos- 
sessions far more than silver or gold, and would 
not waste any of his time in making money. 

Just think of our advantages here in London ! 
We have access to the whole literature of the 
world; we may see in our National Gallery the 
most beautiful productions of former genera- 
tions, and in the Royal Academy and other 
galleries works of the greatest living artists. 
Perhaps there is no one who has ever found 
time to see the British Museum thoroughly. 
Yet consider what it contains ; or rather, what 
does it not contain? The most gigantic of liv- 
ing and extinct animals, the marvelous mon- 
sters of geological ages, the most beautiful 
birds and shells and minerals, the most inter- 
esting antiquities, curious and fantastic speci- 
mens illustrating different races of men; 
exquisite gems, coins, glass, and china; the 
Elgin marbles, the remains of the Mausoleum: 
of the temple of Diana of Ephesus; ancient 
monuments of Egypt and Assyria; the rude 
implements of our predecessors in England, 
who were coeval with the hippopotamus and 
rhinoceros, the muskox, and the mammoth; 
and beautiful specimens of Greek and Roman 
art. In London we may unavoidably suffer, 
but no one has any excuse for being dull. 

And yet some people are dull. They talk of 
a better world to come, while whatever dull- 
ness there may be here is all their own. Sir 
Arthur Helps has well said: "What! dull, 
when you do not know what gives its loveliness 
of form to the lily, its depth of color to the 



76 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

violet, its fragrance to the rose: when you do 
not know in what consists the venom of the 
adder, any more than you can imitate the glad 
movements of the dove. What! dull, when 
earth, air, and water are all alike mysteries to 
you, and when as you stretch out your hand 
you do not touch anything the properties of 
which you have mastered; while all the time 
Nature is inviting you to talk earnestly with 
her, to understand her, to subdue her, and to 
be blessed by her! Go away, man ; learn some- 
thing, do something, understand something, 
and let me hear no more of your dullness. M 

Time, indeed, is a sacred gift, and each day 
is a little life. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 77 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE PLEASURES OF TRAVEL.* 

"I am a part of all that I have seen." — Tennyson. 

I am sometimes disposed to think that there 
are few things in which we of this generation 
enjoy greater advantages over our ancestors 
than in the increased facilities of travel ; but I 
hesitate to say this, not because our advantages 
are not great, but because I have already made 
the same remark with reference to several 
other aspects of life. 

The very word "travel" is suggestive. It is 
a form of " travail" — excessive labor; and, as 
Skeat observes, it forcibly recalls the toil of 
travel in olden days. How different things are 
now! 

It is sometimes said that every one should 
travel on foot "like Thales, Plato, and Pythag- 
oras ;" we are told that in these days of rail- 
roads, people rush through countries and see 
nothing. It may be so, but that is not the 
fault of the railways. They confer upon us 
the inestimable advantage of being able, so 
rapidly and with so little fatigue, to visit coun- 
tries which were much less accessible to our 
ancestors. What a blessing it is that not our 

* The substance of this was delivered at Oldham, 



78 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

own islands only — our smiling fields and ric*n 
woods, the mountains that are full of peace and 
the rivers of joy, the lakes and heather and 
hills, castles, and cathedrals, and many a spot 
immortalized in the history of our country — 
but the sun and scenery of the South, the Alps 
and palaces of Nature, the blue Mediterranean, 
the cities of Europe, with all their memories 
and treasures, are now brought within a few 
hours of us. Surely no one who has the 
opportunity should omit to travel. The world 
belongs to him who has seen it. 

Bacon tells us that "the things to be seen 
and observed are the courts of princes, especi- 
ally when they give audience to ambassadors; 
the courts of justice while they sit and hear 
causes; and so of consistories ecclesiastic; the 
churches and monasteries, with the monu- 
ments which are therein extant; the walls and 
fortifications of cities and towns; and so the 
havens and harbors, antiquities and ruins, 
libraries, colleges, disputations, and lectures 
when any are; shipping and navies; houses 
and gardens of state and pleasure near great 
cities; armories, arsenals, magazines, ex- 
changes, burses, warehouses, exercises of 
horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, 
and the like; comedies, such whereunto the 
better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of 
jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, 
to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the 
places where they go." 

But this depends on the time at our disposal, 
and the object with which we travel. If we 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 79 

can stay long in any one place, Bacon's advice 
is no doubt excellent ; but for the moment I 
am thinking rather of an annual holiday, 
taken for the sake of rest and health ; for fresh 
air and exercise rather than for study. Yet 
even so, if we have eyes to see, we cannot fail 
to lay in a stock of new ideas as well as a store 
of health. 

We may have read the most vivid and ac- 
curate description, we may have pored over 
maps and plans and pictures, and yet the 
reality will burst on us like a revelation. This 
is true not only of mountains and glaciers, of 
palaces and cathedrals, but even of the sim- 
plest examples. 

For instance, like every one else, I had read 
descriptions and seen photographs and pictures 
of the Pyramids. Their form is simplicity it- 
self. I do not know that I could put into 
words any characteristic of the original for 
which I was not prepared. It was not that 
they were larger; it was not that they differed 
in form, in color, or situation. And yet, the 
moment I saw them, I felt that my previous 
impression had been but a faint shadow of the 
reality. The actual sight seemed to give life 
to the idea. 

Every one, I think, who has been in the 
East will agree that a week of oriental travel 
seems to bring out, with more than stereo- 
scopic effect, the pictures of patriarchal life as 
given us in the Old Testament. And what is 
true of the Old Testament is true of history 
generally. To those who have been in Athens 



80 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

or Rome, the history of Greece or Italy be- 
comes far more interesting; while, on the 
other hand, some knowledge of the history and 
literature enormously enhances the interest of 
the scenes themselves. 

Good descriptions and pictures, however, 
help us to see much more than we should per- 
haps perceive for ourselves. It may even be 
doubted whether some persons do not derive a 
more correct impression from a good drawing 
or description, which brings out the salient 
points, than they would from actual, but un- 
aided, inspection. The idea may gain in 
accuracy, in character, and even in detail- 
more than it misses in vividness. But, how, 
ever this may be, for those who cannot travel, 
descriptions and pictures have an immense 
interest; while to those who have traveled, 
they will afford an inexhaustible delight in 
reviving the memories of beautiful scenes and 
interesting expeditions. 

It is really astonishing how little most of us 
see of the beautiful world in which we live. 
Mr. Norman Lockyer tells us that while travel- 
ing on a scientific mission in the Rocky Moun- 
tains, he was astonished to meet an aged 
French Abbe, and could not help showing his 
surprise. The Abbe observed this, and in 
the course of conversation explained his pres- 
ence in that distant region. 

"You were, M he said, "I easily saw, sur- 
prised to find me here. The fact is, that some 
months ago I was very ill. My physicians 
gave me up, and one morning I seemed to 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 81 

faint and thought that I was already in the 
arms of the Bon Dieu, and I fancied the angels 
came and asked me, 'Well, M. l'Abbe, and 
how did you like the beautiful world you have 
just left?' And then it occurred to me that I 
who had been all my life preaching about 
heaven had seen almost nothing of the world 
in which I was living. I determined, there- 
fore, if it pleased Providence to spare me, to 
see something of this world; and so here I 
am." 

Few of us are free, however much we might 
wish it, to follow the example of the worthy 
Abbe. But although it may not be possible 
for us to visit the Rocky Mountains, there are 
other countries nearer home which most of us 
might find time to visit. 

Though it is true that no descriptions can 
come near the reality, they may at least per- 
suade us to give ourselves this great advantage. 
Let me then try to illustrate this by pictures 
in words, as realized by some of our most 
illustrious countrymen ; I will select references 
to foreign countries only, not that we have not 
equal beauties here, but because everywhere 
in England one feels oneself at home. 

The following passage from Tyndall's Hours 
of Exercise in the Alps, is almost as good as 
an hour in the Alps itself : 

"I looked over this wondrous scene toward 
Mont Blanc, the Grand Combin, the Dent 
Blanche, the Weisshorn, the Dom, and the 
thousand lesser peaks which seemed to join in 
the celebration of the risen day, I asked my- 

6 Pleasures 



82 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

self, as on previous occasions, How was this 
colossal work performed? Who chiseled these 
mighty and picturesque masses out of a mere 
protuberance of the earth? And the answer 
was at hand. Ever young, ever mighty — with 
the vigor of a thousand worlds still within him 
— the real sculptor was even then climbing up 
the eastern sky. It was he who raised aloft 
the waters which cut out these ravines; it was 
he who planted the glaciers on the mountain- 
slopes, thus giving gravity a plow to open out 
the valleys ; and it is he who, acting through 
the ages, will finally lay low those mighty 
monuments, rolling them gradually seaward, 
sowing the seeds of continents to be ; so that 
the people of an older earth may see mold 
spread, and corn wave over the hidden rocks 
which at this moment bear the weight of the 
Jungfrau. M And the Alps lie within twenty- 
four hours of London. 

His writings also contain many vivid 
descriptions of the glaciers, those " silent and 
solemn causeways . . . broad enough for the 
march of an army in line of battle and quiet 
as a street of tombs in a buried city." I do 
not, however, borrow from him or from any 
one else any description of glaciers, for they are 
so unlike anything else that no one who has 
not seen them can possibly visualize them. 

The history of European rivers yet remains 
to be written, and is most interesting. They 
did not always run in their present courses. 
The Rhone, for instance, appears to have been 
itself a great traveler. At least there seems 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 83 

reason to believe that the upper waters of the 
Valais fell at first into the Danube, and so into 
the Black Sea; and subsequently joined the 
Rhine, and so ran far north to the Arctic 
Ocean, over the plains which once connected 
the mountains of Scotland, and of Norway, 
before they adopted their present course into 
the Mediterranean. But, however this may 
be, the Rhine of Germany and the Rhine of 
Switzerland are very unlike. The catastrophe 
of Schaffhausen seems to alter the whole char- 
acter of the river, and no wonder. 

44 Stand for half an hour beside the Fall of 
Schaffhausen, on the north side where the 
rapids are long, and watch how the vault of 
water first bends, unbroken, in pure polished 
velocity, over the arching rocks at the brow of 
the cataract, covering them with a dome of 
crystal twenty feet thick, so swift that its 
motion is unseen, except when a foam globe 
from above darts over it like a falling star ; 
. . . and how ever and anon, startling you with 
its white flash, a jet of spray leaps hissing out 
of the fall, like a rocket, bursting in the wind 
and driven away in dust, filling the air with 
light; and how, through the curdling wreaths 
of the restless crushing abyss below, the blue 
of the water, paled by the foam in its body, 
shows purer than the sky through white rain- 
clouds . . . their dripping masses lifted at 
intervals, like sheaves of loaded corn, by some 
stronger gush from the cataract, and bowed 
again upon the mossy rocks as its roar dies 
away." 



84 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

But however much we may admire the ma- 
jestic grandeur of a mighty river, either in its 
eager rush or its calmer moments, there is 
something which fascinates even more in the 
free life, the young energy, the sparkling 
transparency, and merry music of smaller 
streams. 

"The upper Swiss valley," as the same 
great "seer" says, "are sweet with perpetual 
streamlets, that seem always to have chosen 
the steepest places to come down, for the sake 
of the leaps, scattering their handfuls of crys- 
tal this way and that, as the wind takes them, 
with all the grace, but with none of the for- 
malism, of fountains . . . until at last . . . 
they find their way down to the turf, and lose 
themselves in that, silently; with quiet depth 
of clear water furrowing among the grass 
blades, and looking only like their shadow, 
but presently emerging again in little startled 
gushes and laughing hurries, as if they had 
remembered suddenly that the day was too 
short for them to get down the hill. M 

How vividly does Symonds bring before us 
the sunny shores of the Mediterranean, which 
he loves so well, and the contrast between the 
scenery of the South and the North. 

"In Northern landscapes the eye travels 
through vistas of leafy boughs to still, se- 
cluded crofts and pastures, where slow-moving 
oxen graze. The mystery of dreams and the 
repose of meditation haunt our massive 
bowers. But in the South, the lattice- work of 
olive boughs and foliage scarcely veils the 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 85 

laughing sea and bright blue sky, while the 
hues of the landscape find their climax in the 
dazzling radiance of the sun upon the waves, 
and the pure light of the horizon. There is no 
concealment and no melancholy here. Nature 
seem to hold a never-ending festival and dance, 
in which the waves and sunbeams and shadows 
join. Again, in northern scenery, the 
rounded forms of full-foliaged trees suit the 
undulating country, with its gentle hills and 
brooding clouds ; but in the South the spiky 
leaves and sharp branches of the olive carry 
out the defined outlines which are everywhere 
observable through the broader beauties of 
mountain and valley and sea-shore. Serenity 
and intelligence characterize this southern 
landscape, in which a race of splendid men 
and women lived beneath the pure light of 
Phoebus, their ancestral god. Pallas protected 
them, and golden Aphrodite favored them 
with beauty. Olives are not, however, by any 
means the only trees which play a part in 
idyllic scenery. The tall stone pine is even 
more important. . . . Near Massa, by Sor- 
rento, there are two gigantic pines so placed 
that, lying on the grass beneath them, one 
looks on Capri rising from the sea, Baiae, and 
all the bay of Naples sweeping round to the 
base of Vesuvius. Tangled growths of olives, 
oranges, and rose-trees fill the garden-ground 
along the shore, while far away in the distance 
pale Inarime sleeps, with her exquisite Greek 
name, a virgin island on the deep. 

"On the wilder hills you find patches o-I ilex 



86 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and arbutus glowing with crimson berries and 
white waxen bells, sweet myrtle rods and 
shafts of bay, frail tamarisk and tall tree- 
heaths that wave their frosted boughs above 
your head. Nearer the shore the lentisk 
grows, a savory shrub, with cytisus and aro- 
matic rosemary. Clematis and polished gar- 
lands of tough sarsaparilla wed the shrubs 
with clinging, climbing arms; and here and 
there in sheltered nooks the vine shoots forth, 
luxuriant tendrils bowed with grapes, stretch- 
ing from branch to branch of mulberry or elm, 
flinging festoons on which young loves might 
sit and swing, or weaving a lattice-work of 
leaves across the open shed. Nor must the 
sounds of this landscape be forgotten, — sounds 
of bleating flocks, and murmuring bees, and 
nightingales, and doves that moan, and run- 
ning streams, and shrill cicades, and hoarse 
frogs, and whispering pines. There is not a 
single detail which a patient student may not 
verify from Theocritus. 

"Then too it is a landscape in which sea and 
country are never sundered. The higher we 
climb upon the mountain-side the more mar- 
velous is the beauty of the sea, which seems 
to rise as we ascend, and stretch into the sky. 
Sometimes a little flake of blue is framed by 
olive boughs, sometimes a turning in the road 
reveals the whole broad azure calm below. 
Or, after toiling up a steep ascent we fall upon 
the undergrowth of juniper, and lo! a double 
sea, this way and that, divided by the sharp 
spine of the jutting hill, jeweled with villages 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 87 

along its shore, and smiling with fair islands 
and silver sails. ' ' 

To many of its the mere warmth of the South 
is a blessing and a delight. The very thought 
of it is delicious. I have read over again and 
again Wallace's graphic description of a tropi- 
cal morning — "The sun of the early morning 
that turneth all into gold. ' ' 

"Up to about a quarter past five o'clock, " 
says Wallace, "the darkness is complete; but 
about that time a few cries of birds begin to 
break the silence of night, perhaps indicating 
that signs of dawn are perceptible in the east- 
ern horizon. A little later the melancholy 
voices of the goatsuckers are heard, varied 
croakings of frogs, the plaintive whistle of 
mountain thrushes, and strange cries of birds 
or mammals peculiar to each locality. About 
half-past five the first glimmer of light becomes 
perceptible ; it slowly become lighter, and then 
increases so rapidly that at about a quarter to 
six it seems full daylight. For the next quar- 
ter of an hour this changes very little in char- 
acter; when, suddenly, the sun's rim appears 
above the horizon, decking the dew-laden foli- 
age with glittering gems, sending gleams of 
golden light far into the woods, and waking 
up all nature to life and activity. Birds chirp 
and flutter about, parrots scream, monkeys 
chatter, bees hum among the flowers, and gor- 
geous butterflies flutter lazily along or sit with 
full expanded wings exposed to the warm and 
invigorating rays. The first hour of morning 
in the equatorial regions possesses a charm 



88 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and a beauty that can never be forgotten. All 
nature seems refreshed and strengthened by 
the coolness and moisture of the past night, 
new leaves and buds unfold almost before the 
eye, and fresh shoots may often be observed 
to have grown many inches since the preced- 
ing day. The temperature is the most deli- 
cious conceivable. The slight chill of early 
dawn, which was itself agreeable, is succeeded 
by an invigorating warmth ; and the intense 
sunshine lights up the glorious vegetation of 
the tropics, and realizes all that the magic art 
of the painter or the glowing words of the poet 
have pictured as their ideals of terrestrial 
beauty." 

Or take Dean Stanley's description of the 
colossal statues of Amenophis III., the Mem- 
non of the Greeks, at Thebes — "The sun was 
setting, the African range glowed red behind 
them; the green plain was dyed with a deeper 
green beneath them, and the shades of even- 
ing veiled the vast rents and fissures in their 
aged frames. As I looked back at them in 
the sunset, and they rose up in front of the 
background of the mountain, they seemed, in- 
deed, as if they were part of it — as if they be- 
longed to some natural creation. " 

But I must not indulge myself in more 
quotations, though it is difficult to stop. Such 
extracts recall the memory of many glorious 
days ; for the advantages of travels last through 
life: and often, as we sit at home, "some 
bright and perfect view of Venice, of Genora, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 89 

or of Monte Rosa comes back on you, as full 
of repose as a day wisely spent in travel. ' ' 

Not only does a thorough love and enjoy- 
ment of traveling by no means interfere with 
the love of home, but perhaps no one can thor- 
oughly enjoy his home who does not some- 
times travel. They are like exertion and rest, 
each the complement of the other; so that, 
though it may seem paradoxical, one of the 
greatest pleasures of travel is the return, and 
no one who has not traveled can realize the 
devotion which the wanderer feels for Domi- 
duca, the sweet and gentle goddess who 
watches over our coming home. 



90 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE PLEASURES OF HOME. 

Outside fall the snowflakes lightly, 
Through the night loud raves the storm ; 

In my room the fire glows brightly 
And 'tis cosy, silent, warm." 

— Heine. 

It may well be doubted which is most de- 
lightful, — to start for a holiday which has been 
Well earned, or to return home from one which 
ias been thoroughly enjoyed; to find oneself 
with renewed vigor, with a new store of mem- 
ories and ideas, back once more by one's own 
fireside, with one's family, friends, and books. 

44 To sit at home," says Leigh Hunt, "with 
an old folio (?) book of romantic yet credible 
voyages and travels to read, an old bearded 
traveler for its hero, a fireside in an old 
country house to read it by, curtains drawn, 
and just wind enough stirring out of doors to 
make an accompaniment to the billows or 
forests we are reading of — this surely is one 
of the perfect moments of existence. ' ' 

It is no doubt a great privilege to visit 
foreign countries; to travel say in Mexico or 
Peru, or to cruise among the Pacific Islands; 
but in some respects the narratives of early 
travelers, the histories of Prescott or the voy- 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 91 

ages of Captain Cook, are even more interest- 
ing- ; describing to us, as they do, a state of 
society which was then so unlike ours, but 
which now has been much changed and Euro- 
peanized. 

Thus we may make our daily travels inter- 
esting, even though, like the Vicar of Wake- 
field's family, all our adventures are by our 
own fireside, and all our migrations from one 
room to another. 

Moreover, even if the beauties of home are 
humble, they are still infinite, and a man 
"may lie in his bed, like Pompey and his sons, 
in all quarters of the earth. " 

It is no doubt very wise to "cultivate a 
talent very fortunate for a man of my disposi- 
tion, that of traveling in my easy chair ; of 
transporting myself, without stirring from my 
parlor, to distant places and to absent friends; 
of drawing scenes in my mind's eye; and of 
peopling them with the groups of fancy, or 
the society of remembrance. " 

We may, indeed, secure for ourselves endless 
variety without leaving our own firesides. 

In the first place, the succession of seasons 
multiplies every home. How different is the 
view from our windows as we look on the ten- 
der green of spring, the rich foliage of sum- 
mer, the glorious tints of autumn, or the deli- 
cate tracery of winter. 

In our happy climate, even in the worst 
months of the year, * 4 calm' mornings of sun- 
shine visit us at times, appearing like glimpses 
of departed spring amid the wilderness of wet 



92 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and windy days that lead to winter. It is 
pleasant, when these interludes of silvery light 
occur, to ride into the woods and see how 
wonderful are all the colors of decay. Over- 
head, the elms and chestnuts hang their wealth 
of golden leaves, while the beeches darken into 
russet tones, and the wild cherry glows like 
blood-red wine. In the hedges crimson haws 
and scarlet hips are wreathed with hoary cle- 
matis or necklaces of coral briony-berries; the 
brambles burn with many-colored flames; the 
dog-wood is bronzed to purple ; and here and 
there the spindle-wood puts forth its fruit, like 
knots of rosy buds, on delicate frail twigs. 
Underneath lie fallen leaves, and the brown 
brake rises to our knees as we thread the for- 
est paths/' Nay, every day gives us a succes- 
sion of glorious pictures in never-ending vari- 
ety. 

It is remarkable how few people seem to de- 
rive any pleasure from the beauty of the sky. 
Gray, after describing a sunrise — how it be- 
gan with a slight "whitening, then slightly 
tinged with gold and blue, all at once a little 
line of insufferable brightness that, before I 
can write these five words, was grown to half 
an orb, and now to a whole one too glorious 
to be distinctly seen" — adds, "I wonder 
whether any one ever saw it before. I hardly 
believe it." 

From the dawn of poetry, the splendors of 
the morning and evening skies have excited 
the admiration of mankind. But we are espe- 
cially indebted to Ruskin for making us see 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 93 

more vividly these glorious sky pictures. As 
he says, in language almost as brilliant as the 
sky itself, the whole heaven, "from the zenith 
to the horizon, becomes one molten, mantling 
sea of color and fire ; every black bar turns 
into massy gold, every ripple and wave into 
unsullied, shadowless crimson, and purple, 
and scarlet, and colors for which there are no 
words in language, and no ideas in the mind — 
things which can only be conceived while they 
are visible ; the intense hollow blue of the up- 
per sky melting through it all, showing here 
deep and pure, and lightness; there, modu- 
lated by the filmy, formless body of the trans- 
parent vapor, till it is lost imperceptibly in its 
crimson and gold. ' ' 

It is in some cases, indeed, "not color, but 
conflagration, ' ' and though the tints are richer 
and more varied toward morning and at sun- 
set, the glorious kaleidoscope goes on all day 
long. Yet " it is a strange thing how little in 
general people know about the sky. It is the 
part of creation in which Nature has done 
more for the sake of pleasing man, more for 
the sole and evident purpose of talking to him 
and teaching him, than in any other of her 
works, and it is just the part in which we least 
attend to her. There are not many of her 
other works in which some more material or 
essential purpose than the mere pleasing of 
man is not answered by every part of their 
organization ; but every essential purpose of the 
sky might, so far as we know, be answered, if 
once in three days, or thereabouts a great, 



94 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

ugly, black rain-cloud were brought up over 
the blue, and everything well watered, and so 
all left blue again till next time, with perhaps 
a film of morning and evening mist for dew. 
And instead of this, there is not a moment of 
any day of our lives when Nature is not pro- 
ducing scene after scene, picture after picture, 
glory after glory, and working still upon such 
exquisite and constant principles of the most 
perfect beauty, that it is quite certain it is all 
done for us, and intended for our perpetual 
pleasure." 

Nor does the beauty end with the day. For 
my part I always regret the custom of shut- 
ting up our rooms in the evening, as though 
there was nothing worth looking at outside. 
What, however, can be more beautiful than to 
"look how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid 
with patines of bright gold," or to see the 
moon journeying in calm and silver glory 
through the night ; and even if we do not feel 
that "the man who has seen the rising moon 
break out of the clouds at midnight, has been 
present like an Archangel at the creation of 
light and of the world," still "the stars say 
something significant to all of us and each man 
has a whole hemisphere of them, if he will 
but look up, to counsel and befriend him," for 
it is not so much, as he elsewhere observes, 
"in guiding us over the seas of our little planet, 
but out of the dark waters of onr own per- 
turbed minds, that we may make to ourselves 
the most of your significance. " Indeed, 






THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 95 

"How beautiful is night! 
A dewy freshness fills the silent air ; 
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain* 
Breaks the serene of heaven : 
In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine 
Rolls through the dark blue depths; 
Beneath her steady ray 
The desert circle spreads, 
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky, 
How beautiful is night!" 

I have never wondered at those who wor- 
shiped the sun and moon. 

On the other hand, when all outside is dark 
and cold ; when perhaps 

"Outside fall the snowflakes lightly; 

Through the night loud raves the storm ; 
In my room the fire glows brightly, 
And 'tis cosy, silent, warm. 

"Musing sit I on the settle 

By the firelight's cheerful blaze, 
Listening to the busy kettle 
Humming long-forgotten lays." 

For after all the true pleasures of home are 
not without, but within, and "the domestic 
man who loves no music so well as his own 
kitchen clock and the airs which the logs sing 
to him as they burn on the hearth, has solaces 
which others never dream of. " 

We love the ticking of the clock, and the 
flicker of the fire, like the sound of the caw- 
ing of rooks, not for their own sakes, but for 
their associations. 

It is a great truth that when we retire into 
ourselves we can call up what memories we 
please. 



96 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
When fond recollection recalls them to view — 

The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, 
And every lov'd spot which my infancy knew." 

It is not so much the 

1 ' Fireside enjoyments, 
And all the comforts of the lowly roof," 

but rather, according to the higher and better 
ideal of Keble, 

"Sweet is the smile of home; the mutual look, 
When hearts are of each other sure ; 
Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook, 
The haunt of all affections pure." 

In ancient times, not only among savage 
races, but even among the Greeks themselves, 
there seems to have been but little family life. 

What a contrast is the home life of the 
Greeks, as it seems to have been, to that de- 
scribed by Cowley — a home happy "in books 
and gardens," and above all, in a 

"Virtuous wife, where thou again dost meet 
Both pleasures more refined and sweet; 
The fairest garden j n her looks. 
And in her mind the wisest books." 

No one who has ever loved mother or wife, 
sister or daughter, can read without astonish- 
ment and pity St. Chrysostom's description of 
woman as "a necessary evil, a natural tempta- 
tion, a desirable calamity, a domestic peril, a 
deadly fascination, and a painted ill. M 

In few respects has mankind made a greater 
advance than in the relations of men and 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 97 

women. It is terrible to think how women 
suffer in savage life ; and even among the intel- 
lectual Greeks, with rare exceptions, they 
seem to have been treated rather as house- 
keepers or playthings than as the angels of 
home. 

The Hindoo proverb that you should " never 
strike a wife, even with a flower, ' ' though a 
considerable advance, tells a melancholy tale 
of what must previously have been. 

In The Origin of Civilization I have given 
many cases showing how small a part family 
affection plays in savage life. Here I will 
only mention one case in illustration. The 
Algonquin (North America) language con- 
tained no word for "to love," so that when the 
missionaries translated the Bible into it they 
were obliged to invent one. What a life ! and 
what a language without love ! 

Yet in marriage even the rough passion of a 
savage may contrast favorably with any cold 
calculation, which is almost sure, like the en- 
chanted hoard of the Nibelungs, to bring mis- 
fortune. In the Finnish epi:, the Kalevala, 
Ilmarinnen, the divine smith, forges a bride 
of gold and silver for Wainamoinen, who was 
pleased at first to have so rich a wife, but soon 
found her intolerably cold, for, in spite of fires 
and furs, whenever he touched her she froze 
him. 

Moreover, apart from mere coldness, how 
much we suffer from foolish . quarrels about 
trifles; from hasty words thoughtlessly repeated 
(sometimes without the context or tone which 

7 Pleasures 



98 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

would have deprived them of any sting) ; from 
mere misunderstandings! How much would 
that charity which "beareth all things, be- 
lieveth all things, hopeth all things, endureth 
all things," effect to smooth away the sorrows 
of life and add to the happiness of home. 
Home indeed may be a haven of repose from 
the storms and perils of the world. But to 
secure this we must not be content to pave it 
with good intentions, but must make it bright 
and cheerful. 

If our life be one of toil and of suffering, if 
the world outside be cold and dreary, what a 
pleasure to return to the sunshine of happy 
faces and the warmth of hearts we love. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 99 



CHAPTER IX. 

SCIENCE.* 

•'Happy is the man that findeth wisdom. 
And the man that getteth understanding: 
For the merchandise of it is better than silver, 
And the gain thereof than fine gold. 
She is more precious than rubies: 
And all the things thou canst desire are not to be 

compared unto her. 
Length of days is in her right hand; 
And in her left hand riches and honor. 
Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
And all her paths are peace." 

—Proverbs of Solomon. 

Those who have not tried for themselves can 
hardly imagine how much science adds to the 
interest and variety of life. It is altogether a 
mistake to regard it as dry, difficult, or prosaic 
— much of it is as easy as it is interesting. 
A wise instinct of old united the prophet and 
the "seer." — Technical works, descriptions of 
species, etc., bear the same relation to science 
as dictionaries do to literature. In endless 
aspects science is as wonderful and interesting 
as a fairy tale. 

1 'There are things whose strong reality 
Outshines our fairyland ; in shape and hues 
More beautiful than our fantastic sky, 
And the strange constellations which the Muse 
O'er her wild universe is skillful to diffuse." 



* The substance of this was delivered at Mason Col- 
lege, Birmingham. 

i ur 



100 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Occasionally, indeed, it may destroy some 
poetical myth of antiquity, such as the ancient 
Hindoo explanation of rivers, that "Indra dug 
out their beds with his thunderbolts, and sent 
them forth by long continuous paths. " But 
the real causes of natural phenomena are far 
more striking, and contain more real poetry, 
than those which have occurred to the un- 
trained imagination of mankind. 

Mackay more justly exclaims: 

"Blessings on Science! When the earth seemed old, 
When Faith grew doting, and our reason cold, 
'Twas she discovered that the world was young, 
And taught a language to its lisping tongue." 

Botany, for instance, is by many regarded as 
a dry science. Yet without it one may admire 
flowers and trees as one may admire a great 
man or a beautiful woman whom one meets in 
a crowd ; but it is as a stranger. The botanist, 
on the contrary— nay, I will not say, the bot- 
anist, but one with even a slight knowledge of 
that delightful science — when he goes out into 
the woods or into one of those fairy forests 
which we call fields, finds himself welcomed by 
a glad company of friends, every one with 
something interesting to tell. Dr. Johnson 
said that, in his opinion, when you had seen 
one green field you had seen them all , and a 
greater even than Johnson, Socrates, the very 
type of intellect without science, said he was 
always anxious to learn, and from fields and 
trees he could learn nothing. It has, I know, 
been said that botanists 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 101 

"Love not the flower they pluck and know it not, 
And all their botany is but Latin names." 

Contrast this, however, with the language of 
one who would hardly claim to be a master ia 
botany, though he is certainly a loving student. 
" Consider,* ' says Ruskin, "what we owe to 
the meadow grass, to the covering of the dark 
ground by that glorious enamel, by the com- 
panies of those soft, countless, and peaceful 
spears of the field ! Follow but for a little time 
the thought of all that we ought to recognize 
in those words. All spring and summer is in 
them— the walks by silent scented paths, the 
rest in noonday heat, the joy of the herds and 
flocks, the power of all shepherd life and 
meditation; the life of the sunlight upon the 
world, falling in emerald streaks and soft blue 
shadows, when else it would have struck on 
the dark mold or scorching dust; pastures 
beside the pacing brooks, soft banks and 
knolls of lowly hills, thymy slopes of down 
overlooked by the blue line of lifted sea ; crisp 
lawns all dim with early dew, or smooth in 
evening warmth of barred sunshine, dinted by 
happy feet, softening in their fall the sound of 
loving voices." 

Even if it be true that science was dry when 
it was buried in huge folios, that is certainly 
no longer the case now; and Lord Chester- 
field's wise wish, that Minerva might have 
three graces as well as Venus, has been amply 
fulfilled. 

The study of natural history, indeed, seems- 
destined to replace the loss of what is^ not 



102 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

very_ happily I think, termed " sport"; en- 
graven in tis as it is by the operation of 
thousands of years, during which man lived 
greatly on the produce of the chase. Game is 
gradually becoming * 'small by degrees and 
beautifully less." Our prehistoric ancestors 
hunted the mammoth, the woolly-haired rhi- 
noceros, and the Irish elk ; the ancient Britons 
had the wild ox, the deer, and the wolf. We 
have still the hare, the partridge, and the fox; 
but even these are becoming scarcer, and must 
be preserved first, in order that they may be 
killed afterward. Some of us even now — and 
more, no doubt, will hereafter — satisfy in- 
stincts, essentially of the same origin, by the 
study of birds, or insects, or even infusoria — 
of creatures which more than make up by their 
variety what they want in size. 

Emerson says that when a naturalist has 
"got all snakes and lizards in his phials, 
science has done for him also, and has put the 
man into a bottle." I do not deny that there 
are such cases, but they are quite exceptional. 
The true naturalist is no mere dry collector. 

I cannot resist, although it is rather long, 
quoting the following description from Hudson 
and Gosse's beautiful work on the Rotifera: — 

44 On the Somersetshire side of the Avon, 
and not far from Clifton, is a little combe, at 
the bottom of which lies an old fish-pond. Its 
slopes are covered with plantations of beech 
and fir, so as to shelter the pond on three sides 
and yet leave it open to the soft southwestern 
breezes, and to the afternoon sun. At the 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 103 

head of the combe wells up a clear spring, 
which sends a thread of water, trickling 
through a bed of osiers into the upper end of 
the pond. A stout stone wall has been drawn 
across the combe from side to side, so as to 
dam up the stream ; and there is a gap in one 
corner through which the overflow finds its 
way in a miniature cascade, down into the 
lower plantation. 

"If we approach the pond by the game- 
keeper's path, from the cottage above, we shall 
pass through the plantation, and come unseen 
right on the corner of the wall ; so that one 
quiet step will enable us to see at a glance its 
whole surface, without disturbing any living 
thing that may be there. 

"Far off at the upper end a water-hen is 
leading her little brood among the willows; 
on the fallen trunk of an old beech, lying half- 
way across the pond, a vole is sitting erect, 
rubbing his right ear, and the splash of a 
beech husk just at our feet tells of a squirrel 
who is dining somewhere in the leafy crown 
above us. 

"But see, the water-rat has spied us out, 
and is making straight for his hole in the 
bank, while the ripple above him is the only 
thing that tells of his silent flight. The water- 
hen has long ago got under cover, and the 
squirrel drops no more husks. It is a true 
Silent Pond, and without a sign of life. 

" But if, retaining sense and sight, we could 
shrink into living atoms and plunge under the 
water, of what a world of wonders should we 



104 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

then form part! We should find this fairy 
kingdom peopled with the strangest creatures 
— creatures that swim with their hair, that 
have ruby eyes blazing deep in their necks, 
with telescopic limbs that now are withdrawn 
wholly within their bodies, and now stretched 
out to many times their own length. Here 
are some riding at anchor, moored by delicate 
threads spun out from their toes; and there 
are others flashing by in glass armor, bristling 
with sharp spikes or ornamented with bosses 
and flowing curves ; while fastened to a great 
stem is an animal convolvulus that, by some 
invisible power, draws a never-ceasing stream 
of victims into its gaping cup, and tears them 
to death with hooked jaws deep down within 
its body. 

44 Close by it, on the same stems, is some- 
thing that looks like a filmy heart's-ease. A 
curious wheelwork runs round its four out- 
spread petals; and a chain of minute things, 
living and dead, is winding in and out of their 
curves into a gulf at the back of the flower. 
What happens to them there we cannot see; 
for round the stem is raised a tube of golden- 
brown balls all regularly piled on each other. 
Some creature dashes by, and like a flash the 
flower vanishes within its tube. 

44 We sink still lower, and now see on the 
bottom slow gliding lumps of jelly that thrust 
shapeless arms out where they will, and grasp- 
ing their prey with these chance limbs, wrap 
themselves round their food to get a meal; for 
they creep without feet, seize without hands, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 105 

eat without mouths, and digest without 
stomachs. " 

Too many, however, still feel only in Nature 
that which we share "with the weed and the 
worm;*' they love birds as boys do — that is, 
they love throwing stones at them; or wonder 
if they are good to eat, as the Esquimaux 
asked of the watch ; or treat them as certain 
devout Afreedee villagers are said to have 
treated a descendant of the Prophet — killed 
him in order to worship at his tomb ; but grad- 
ually we may hope that the love of Nature will 
become to more and more, as already it is to 
many, a "faithful and sacred element of human 
feeling. ' ' Science summons us 

" To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, 

Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; 
Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, 
Its dome the sky. ' 

Where the untrained eye will see nothing 
but mire and dirt, science will often reveal 
exquisite possibilities. The mud we tread 
tinder our feet in the street is a grimy mix- 
ture of clay and sand, soot and water. Sepa- 
rate the sand, however, as Ruskin observes — 
let the atoms arrange themselves in peace 
according to their nature — and you have the 
opal. Separate the clay, and it becomes a 
white earth, fit for the finest porcelain ; or if 
it still further purifies itself, you have a sap- 
phire. Take the soot, and if properly treated 
it will give you a diamond. While, lastly, the 
water, purified and distilled, will become a 



106 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

dew-drop or crystallize into a lovely star. Or, 
again, you may see in a shallow pool either 
the mud lying at the bottom, or the image of 
the sky above. 

Nay, even if we imagine beauties and charms 
which do not really exist; still if we err at all, 
it is better to do so on the side of charity; like 
Nasmyth, who tells us in his delightful autobi- 
ography that he used to think one of his friends 
had a charming and kindly twinkle, till one 
day he discovered that he had a glass eye. 

But I should err, indeed, were I to dwell 
exclusively on science as lending interest and 
charm to our leisure hours. Far from this, it 
would be impossible to overrate the importance 
of scientific training on the wise conduct of 
life. 

"Science/' said the Royal Commission of 
1 86 1, "quickens and cultivates directly the 
faculty of observation, which in very many 
persons lies almost dormant through life, the 
power of accurate and rapid generalization, 
and the mental habit of method and arrange- 
ment ; it accustoms young persons to trace the 
sequence of cause and effect; it familiarizes 
them with a kind of reasoning which interests 
them, and which they can promptly compre- 
hend ; and it is perhaps the best corrective for 
thaft indolence which is the vice of half-awak- 
ened minds, and which shrinks from any 
exertion that is not like an effort of memory, 
merely mechanical. 

Again, when we contemplate the grandeur 
of science, if we transport ourselves in imagi- 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 107 

nation back into primeval times, or away into 
the immensity of space, our little troubles and 
sorrows seem to shrink into insignificance. 
"Ah, beautiful creations!" says Helps, speak- 
ing of the stars, "it is not in guiding us over 
the seas of our little planet, but out of the dark 
waters of our own perturbed minds that we 
may make to ourselves the most of your signifi- 
cance. " They teach, he tells us elsewhere, 
"something significant to all of us; and each 
man has a whole hemisphere of them, if he 
will but look up to counsel and befriend him. " 

There is a passage in an address given many 
years ago by Professor Huxley to the South 
London Working Men's College which struck 
me very much at the time, and which puts 
this in language more forcible than any which 
I could use. 

"Suppose," he said, "it were perfectly cer- 
tain that the life and fortune of every one of 
us would, one day or other, depend upon his 
winning or losing a game of chess. Don't 
you think that we should all consider it to be 
a primary duty to learn at least the names and 
the moves of the pieces? Do you not think 
that we should look with disapprobation 
amounting to scorn upon the father who 
allowed his son, or the State which allowed its 
members, to grow up without knowing a pawn 
from a knight? Yet it is a very plain and 
elementary truth that the life, the fortune, and 
the happiness of every one of us, and more or 
less of those who are connected with us, do 
depend upon our knowing something of the 



108 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

rules of a game infinitely more difficult and 
complicated than chess. It is a game which 
has been played for untold ages, every man 
and woman of us being one of the two players 
in a game of his or her own. The chessboard 
is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of 
the Universe, the rules of the game are what 
we call the laws of Nature. The player on the 
other side is hidden from us. We know that 
his play is always fair, just, and patient. But 
also we know to our cost that he never over- 
looks a mistake or makes the smallest allow- 
ance for ignorance. To the man who plays 
well the highest stakes are paid, with that sort 
of overflowing generosity which with the 
strong shows delight in strength. And one 
who plays ill is checkmated — without haste, 
but without remorse. ,, 

I have elsewhere endeavored to show the 
purifying and ennobling influence of science 
upon religion how it has assisted, if indeed it 
may not claim the main share, in sweeping 
away the dark superstitions, the degrading 
belief in sorcery and witchcraft, and the cruel, 
however well-intentioned, intolerance which 
embittered the Christian world almost from 
the very days of the Apostles themselves. 
In this she has surely performed no mean ser- 
vice to religion itself. As Canon Fremantle 
has well and justly said, men of science, and 
not the clergy only, are ministers of religion. 

Again, the national necessity for scientific 
education is imperative. We are apt to for- 
get how much we owe to science, because so 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 109 

many of its wonderful gifts have become 
familiar parts of our everyday life, that their 
very value makes us forget their origin. At 
the recent celebration of the Sexcentenary of 
Peterhouse College, near the close of a long 
dinner, Sir Frederick Bramwell was called on, 
some time after midnight, to return thanks 
for Applied Science. He excused himself from 
making a long speech on the ground that, 
though the subject was almost inexhaustible, 
the only illustration which struck him as ap- 
propriate under the circumstances was "the 
application of the domestic lucifer to the bed- 
room candle. ' ' One cannot but feel how un- 
fortunate was the saying of the poet that 

"The light-outspeeding telegraph 
Bears nothing on its beam." 

The report of the Royal Commission on 
Technical Instruction, which has recently been 
issued, teems with illustrations of the advan- 
tages afforded by technical instruction. At the 
same time, technical training ought not to 
begin too soon, for, as Bain truly observes, 
"in a right view of scientific education the first 
principles and leading examples, with select 
details, of all the great sciences, are the proper 
basis of the complete and exhaustive study of 
any single science." Indeed, in the words of 
Sir John Herschel, "it can hardly be pressed 
forcibly enough on the attention of the student 
of Nature, that there is scarcely any natural 
phenomenon which can be fully and completely 
explained in all its circumstances, without a. 



110 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

union of several, perhaps of all, the sciences. " 
The most important secrets of Nature are 
often hidden away in unexpected places. Many 
valuable substances have been discovered in 
the refuse of manufactories: it was a happy 
thought of Glauber to examine what every- 
body else threw away. There is perhaps no 
nation the future happiness and prosperity of 
which depend more on science than our own. 
Our population is over 35,000,000, and is rap- 
idly increasing. Even at present it is far larger 
than our acreage can support. Few people 
whose business does not lie in the study of 
Statistics realize that we have to pay foreign 
countries no less than ^140,000,000, a year for 
food. This, of course, we purchase mainly by 
manufactured articles. We hear now a great 
deal about depression of trade, and foreign, 
especially American, competition, which, let 
me observe, will be much keener a few years 
hence, when she has paid off her debt, and 
consequently reduced her taxation. But let us 
look forward one hundred years — no long time 
in the history of a nation. Our coal supplies 
will then be greatly diminished. The popula- 
tion of Great Britain doubles at the present 
rate of increase in about fifty years, so that we 
should then, if her present rate continues, 
require to import over ^400,000,000 a year in 
food. How, then, is this to be paid for? 
We have before us, as usual, three courses. 
The natural rate of increase may be stopped, 
which means suffering and outrage; or the 
population may increase, only to vegetate in 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. Ill 

misery and destitution ; or, lastly, by the devel- 
opment of scientific training and appliances, 
they may probably be maintained in happiness 
and comfort. We have, in fact, to make our 
choice between science and suffering. It is 
only by wisely utilizing the gifts of science 
that we have any hope of maintaining our 
population in plenty and comfort. Science, 
however, will do this for us if we will only let 
her. She may be no Fairy Godmother indeed, 
but she will richly endow those who love her. 
That discoveries, innumerable, marvelous, 
and fruitful, await the successful explorers of 
Nature no one can doubt. What would one 
not give for a Science primer of the next 
century? for, to paraphrase a well-known say- 
ing, even the boy at the plow will then know 
more of science than the wisest of our philoso- 
phers do now. Boyle entitled one of his 
essays "Of Man's great Ignorance of the Uses 
of Natural Things; or that there is no one 
thing in Nature whereof the uses to human 
life are yet thoroughly understood" — a saying 
which is still as true now as when it was writ- 
ten. And, lest I should be supposed to be 
taking too sanguine a view, let me give the 
authority of Sir John Herschel, who says: 
"Since it cannot but be that innumerable and 
most important uses remain to be discovered 
among the materials and objects already 
known to us, as well as among those which the 
progress of science must hereafter disclose, 
we may hence conceive a -well-grounded expec- 
tation, not only of constant increase in the 



112 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

physical resources of mankind, and the conse- 
quent improvement of their condition, but of 
continual accession to our power of penetrat- 
ing into the arcana of Nature and becoming 
acquainted with her highest laws. M 

Nor is it merely in a material point of view 
that science would thus benefit the nation. 
She will raise and strengthen the national, as 
surely as the individual, character. The great 
gift which Minerva offered to Paris is now 
freely tendered to all, for we may apply to 
the nation, as well as to the individual, Ten- 
nyson's noble lines: — 

"Self -reverence, self-knowledge, self-control: 
These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 
Yet not for power (power of herself 
Would come uncalled for), but to live by law ; 
Acting the law we live by without fear." 

"In the vain and foolish exultation of the 
heart/' said John Quincy Adams, at the close 
of his final lecture on resigning his chair at 
Boston, "which the brighter prospects of life 
will sometimes excite, the pensive portress of 
Science shall call you to the sober pleasures of 
her holy cell. In the mortification of disap- 
pointment, her soothing voice shall whisper 
serenity and peace. In social converse with 
the mighty dead of ancient days, you will never 
smart under the galling sense of dependence 
upon the mighty living of the present age. 
And in your struggles with the world, should 
a crisis ever occur, when even friendship may 
deem it prudent to desert you, when priest and 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 113 

Levite shall come and look on you and pass 
by on the other side, seek refuge, my unfailing 
friends, and be assured you shall find it, in 
the friendship of Laelius and Scipio, in the 
patriotism of Cicero, Demosthenes, and Burke, 
as well as in the precepts and example of Him 
whose law is love, and who taught us to re- 
member injuries only to forgive them." 

Let me in conclusion quote the glowing 
description of our debt to science given by 
Archdeacon Farrar in his address at Liverpool 
College — testimony, moreover, all the more 
valuable, considering the source from which it 
comes. 

"In this great commercial city/' he said, 
"where you are surrounded by the triumphs, 
of science and of mechanism — you, whose 
river is plowed by the great steamships, whose 
white wake has been called the fittest avenue 
to the palace front of a mercantile people — * 
you know well that in the achievements of 
science there is not only beauty and wonder, 
but also beneficence and power. It is not 
only that she has revealed to us infinite space 
crowded with unnumbered worlds; infinite 
time peopled by unnumbered existences; in- 
finite organisms hitherto invisible but full of 
delicate and irridescent loveliness; but also 
that she has been, as a great Archangel of 
Mercy, devoting herself to the service of man. 
She has labored, her votaries have labored, 
not to increase the power of despots or add to 
the magnificence of courts, but to extend human 
happiness to economize human effort, to extin- 



114 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

guish human pain. Where of old, men toiled, 
half blinded and half naked in the mouth of 
the glowing furnace to mix the white-hot iron, 
she now substitutes the mechanical action of 
the viewless air. She has enlisted the sun- 
beam in her service to limn for us, with abso- 
lute fidelity, the faces of the friends we love. 
She has shown the poor miner how he may 
work in safety, even amid the explosive fire- 
damp of the mine. She has, by her anaes- 
thetics, enabled the sufferer to be hushed and 
unconscious while the delicate hand of some 
skilled operator cuts a fragment from the 
nervous circle of the unquivering eye. She 
points not to pyramids built during weary 
centuries by the sweat of miserable nations, 
but to the lighthouse, and the steamship, to 
the railroad and the telegraph. She has re- 
stored eyes to the blind and hearing to the 
deaf. She has lengthened life, she has min- 
imized danger, she has controlled madness, she 
has trampled on disease. And on all these 
grounds, I think that none of our sons should 
grow up wholly ignorant of studies which at 
once train the reason and fire the imagination, 
which fashion as well as forge, which can feed 
as well as fill, the mind. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE 115 



CHAPTER X. 

EDUCATION. 

"No pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the 
vantage ground of truth." — Bacon. 

Divine Philosophy! 
Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools suppose, 
But musical as is Apollo's lute, 
And a perpetual feast of nectar' d sweets 
Where no crude surfeit reigns." — Shakespeare. 

It may seem rather surprising to include 
education among the pleasures of life ; for in 
too many cases it is made odious to the young, 
and is supposed to cease with school; while, 
on the contrary, if it is to be really successful 
it must be made suitable, and therefore inter- 
esting, to children, and must last through life. 

"It is not the eye that sees the beauties of 
heaven, nor the ear that hears the sweetness 
of music, or the glad tidings of a prosperous 
accident; but the soul that perceives all the 
relishes of sensual and intellectual perceptions ; 
and the more noble and excellent the soul is, 
the greater and more savory are its percep- 
tions. And if a child behold the rich ermine, 
or the diamonds of a starry night, or the order 
of the world, or hears the discourses of an 
apostle ; because he makes no reflex act on him- 
self and sees not what he sees, he can have but 



116 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

the pleasure of a fool or the deliciousness of a 
mule." 

Herein lies the importance of education. I 
say education rather than instruction, because 
it is far more important to cultivate the mind 
than to store the memory. Studies are a means 
and not an end. "To spend too much time in 
studies is sloth ; to use them too much for orn- 
ament is affectation ; to make judgment wholly 
by their rules is the humor of a scholar; they 
perfect nature, and are perfected by experience. 
. . . Crafty men contemn studies, simple men 
admire them, and wise men use them. " 

Moreover, though, as Mill says, "in the com- 
paratively early state of human development 
in which we now live, a person cannot indeed 
feel that entireness of sympathy with all others 
which would make any real discordance in the 
general direction of their conduct in life impos- 
sible," yet education might surely do more to 
root in us the feeling of unity with our fellow- 
creatures; at any rate, if we do not study in 
this spirit, all our learning will but leave us as 
weak and sad as Faust. 



"I've now, alas! Philosophy, 
Medicine and Jurisprudence, too, 
And to my cost Theology ; 
With ardent labor studied through, 
And here I stand, with all my lore, 
Poor fool, no wiser than before.*' 






Our studies should be neither "a couch on 
which to rest; nor a cloister in which to prom- 
enade alone ; nor as a tower from which to look 
down on others; nor as a fortress whence we 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 117 

may resist them ; nor as a workshop for gain 
and merchandise; but as a rich armory and 
treasury for the glory of the creator and the 
ennoblement of life. ' ' 

For in the noble words of Epictetus, "you 
will do the greatest service to the state if you 
chall raise, not the roofs of the houses, but the 
.souls of the citizens: for it is better that great 
zovlz should dwell in small houses rather than 
for mean slaves to lurk in great houses." 

It is then of great importance to consider 
whether our present system of education is the 
one best calculated to fulfill these great objects. 
Does it really give that love of learning which 
is better than learning itself? Does all the 
study of the classics to which our sons devote 
so many years give any just appreciation of 
them ; or do they not on leaving college too 
often feel with Byron — 

"Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so!" 

Too much concentration on any one subject 
is a great mistake, especially in early life. 
Nature herself indicates the true system, if we 
would but listen to her. Our instincts are 
good guides, though not infallible, and chil- 
dren will profit little by lessons which do not 
interest them. In cheerfulness, says Pliny, is 
the success of our studies — "studia hilaritate 
proveniunt" — and we may with advantage take 
a lesson from Theognis, who, in his Ode on 
the Marriage of Cadmus and Harmonia, makes 
the Muses sing : 



118 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"What is good and fair, 
Shall ever be our care ; 
Thus the burden of it rang, 
That shall never be our care, 
Which is neither good nor fair. 
Such were the words your lips immortal sang." 

There are some who seem to think that our 
educational system is as good as possible, and 
that the only remaining points of importance 
are the number of schools and scholars, the 
question of fees, the relation of voluntary and 
board schools, etc. "No doubt/' says Mr. 
Symonds, in his Sketches in Italy and Greece, 
"there are many who think that when we not 
only advocate education but discuss the best 
system we are simply beating the air; that our' 
population is as happy and cultivated as can 
be, and that no substantial advance is really 
possible. M. Galton, however, has expressed 
the opinion, and most of those who have writ- 
ten on the social condition of Athens seem to 
agree with him, that the population of Athens, 
taken as a whole, was as superior to us as we 
are to Australian savages." 

That there is, indeed, some truth in this, 
probably no student of Greek history will deny. 
Why, then, should this be so? I cannot but 
think that our system of education is partly 
responsible. 

Manual and science teaching need not in any 
way interfere with instruction in other subjects. 
Though so much has been said about the 
importance of science and the value of technical 
instruction, or of hand-training, as I should 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 119 

prefer to call it, it is unfortunately true that in 
our system of education from the highest 
schools downward, both of them are sadly 
neglected, and the study of language reigns 
supreme. 

This is no new complaint. Ascham, in The 
Schoolmaster, long ago lamented it ; Milton, in 
his letter to Mr. Samuel Hartlib, complained 
"that our children are forced to stick unreason- 
ably in these grammatic flats and shallows;" 
and observes that, 4t though a linguist should 
pride himself to have all the tongues Bable 
cleft the world into, yet, if he have not studied 
the solid things in them as well as the words 
and lexicons, he were nothing so much to be 
esteemed a learned man as any yeoman or 
tradesman competently wise in his mother 
dialect only;" and Locke said that "schools fit 
us for the university rather than for the world. ' ' 
Commission after commission, committee after 
committee, have reiterated the same com- 
plaint. How then do we stand now? 

I see it indeed constantly stated that, even if 
the improvement is not so rapid as could be 
desired, still we are making considerable prog- 
ress. But is this so? I fear not. I fear that 
our present system does not really train the 
mind, or cultivate the power of observation, or 
even give the amount of information which we 
may reasonably expect from the time devoted 
to it. 

Mr. (now Sir M.G.) Grant-Duff has expressed 
the opinion that a boy or girl of fourteen 
might reasonably be expected to "read aloud 



120 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

clearly and agreeably, to write a large distinct 
round hand, and to know the ordinary rules of 
arithmetic, especially compound addition — a by 
no means universal accomplishment ; to speak 
and write French with ease and correctness, 
and have some slight acquaintance with French 
literature; to translate ad aperturarn libriirom 
an ordinary French or German book ; to have 
a thoroughly good elementary knowledge of 
geography, under which are comprehended 
some notions of astronomy — enough to excite 
his curiosity ; a knowledge of the very broadest 
facts of geology and history — enough to make 
him understand, in a clear but perfectly gen- 
eral way, how the larger features of the world 
he lives in, physical and political, came to be 
like what they are ; to have been trained from 
earliest infancy to use his powers of observation 
on plants, or animals, or rocks, or other nat- 
ural objects; and to have gathered a general 
acquaintance with what is most supremely good 
in that portion of the more important English 
classics which is suitable to his time of life ; to 
have some rudimentary acquaintance with 
drawing and music. ' ' 

To effect this, no doubt, " industry must be 
our oracle, and reason our Apollo, ' ' as Sir T. 
Browne says ; but surely it is no unreasonable 
estimate; yet how far do we fall short of it? 
General culture is often deprecated because it 
is said that smatterings are useless. But there 
is all the difference in the world between hav- 
ing a smattering of, or being well grounded in, 
a subject. It is the latter which we advocate 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 121 

— to try to know, as Lord Brougham well said, 
4 'everything of something, and something of 
everything/' 

"It can hardly," says Sir John Herschel, "be 
pressed forcibly enough on the attention of the 
student of nature, that there is scarcely any 
natural phenomenon which can be fully and 
completely explained, in all its circumstances, 
without a union of several, perhaps of all, the 
sciences." 

The present system in most of our public 
schools and colleges sacrifices everything else 
to classics and arithmetic. They are most 
important subjects, but ought not to exclude 
science and modern languages. Moreover, 
after all, our sons leave college unable to speak 
either Latin or Greek, and too often absolutely 
without any interest in classical history or liter- 
ature. But the boy who has been educated 
without any training in science has grave rea- 
son to complain of "knowledge at one entrance 
quite shut out." 

By concentrating the attention, indeed, so 
much on one or two subjects, we defeat our 
own object, and produce a feeling of distaste 
where we wish to create an interest. 

Our great mistake in education is as it seems 
to me, the worship of book-learning — the con- 
fusion of instruction and education. We strain 
the memory instead of cultivating the mind. 
The children in our elementary schools are 
wearied by the mechanical act of writing, and 
the interminable intricacies of spelling; they 
are oppressed by columns of dates, by lists of 



122 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

kings and places, which convey no definite idea 
to their minds, and have no near relation to 
their daily wants and occupations; while in our 
public schools the same unfortunate results are 
produced by the weary monotony of Latin and 
Greek grammar. We ought to follow exactly 
the opposite course with children — to give 
them a wholesome variety of mental food, and 
endeavor to cultivate their tastes, rather than 
to fill their minds with dry facts. The import- 
ant thing is not so much that every child 
should be taught, as that every child should be 
given the wish to learn. What does it matter 
if the pupil knows a little more or a little less? 
A boy who leaves school knowing much, but 
hating his lessons, will soon have forgotten 
almost all he ever learnt; while another who 
had acquired a thirst for knowledge, even if he 
had learnt little, would soon teach himself 
more than the first ever knew. Children are 
by nature eager for information. They are 
always putting questions. This ought to be 
encouraged. In fact, we may to a great extent 
trust to their instincts, and in that case they 
will do much to educate themselves. Too 
often, however, the acquirement of knowledge 
is placed before them in a form so irksome and 
fatiguing that all desire for information is 
chocked, or even crushed out; so that our 
schools, in fact, become places for the discour- 
agement of learning, and thus produce the very 
opposite effect from that at which we aim. In 
short, children should be trained to observe and 
to think, for in that way there would be opened 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 123 

out to them a source of the purest enjoyment 
for leisure hours, and the wisest judgment in 
the work of life. 

Another point in which I venture to think 
that our system of education might be 
amended, is that it tends at present to give the 
impression that everything is known. 

Dr. Bushby is said to have kept his hat on 
in the presence of King Charles, that the boys 
might see what a great man he was. I doubt, 
however, whether the boys were deceived by 
the hat; and I am very skeptical about Dr. 
Bushby's theory of education. 

Master John of Basingstroke, who was 
Archdeacon of Leicester in 1252, and who, hav- 
ing learnt Greek during a visit to Athens from 
Constantina, daughter of the Archbishop of 
Athens, used to say afterward that though 
he had studied well and diligently at the Uni- 
versity of Paris, yet he learnt more from an 
Athenian maiden of twenty. We cannot all 
study so pleasantly as this, but the main fault 
I find with Dr. Bushby's system is that it 
keeps out of sight the great truth of human 
ignorance. 

Boys are given the impression that the mas- 
ters know everything. If, on the contrary, 
the great lesson impressed on them was that 
what we know is as nothing to what we do not 
know, that the "great ocean of truth lies all 
undiscovered before us," surely this would 
prove a great stimulus, and many would be 
nobly anxious to extend the- intellectual king- 



124 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

dom of man, and enlarge the boundaries of 
human knowledge. 

Education ought not to cease when we leave 
school; but if well begun there, will continue 
through life. 

Moreover, whatever our occupation or pro- 
fession in life may be, it is most desirable to 
create for ourselves some other special inter- 
est. In the choice of a subject every one 
should consult his own instincts and interests. 
I will not attempt to suggest whether it is 
better to pursue art; whether we only study. 
the motes in the sunbeam, or the heavenly 
bodies themselves. Whatever may be the sub- 
ject of our choice, we shall find enough, and 
more than enough, to repay the devotion of a 
lifetime. Life no doubt is paved with enjoy- 
ments, but we must all expect times of anxi- 
ety, of suffering, and of sorrow; when these 
come it is an inestimable comfort to have some 
deep interest which will, at any rate to some 
extent, enable us to escape from ourselves. 

44 A cultivated mind," says Mill — "I do not 
mean that of a philosopher, but any mind to 
which the fountains of knowledge have been 
opened, and which has been taught in any tol- 
erable degree to exercise its faculties — will find 
sources of inexhaustible interest in all that 
surrounds it; in the objects of nature, the 
achievements of art, the imaginations of 
poetry, the incidents of history, the ways of 
mankind past and present, and their prospects 
in the future. It is possible, indeed, to be- 
come indifferent to all this, and that too with- 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 125 

out having exhausted a thousandth part of it ; 
but only when one has had from the begin- 
ning no moral or human interest in these 
things, and has sought in them only the grati- 
fication of curiosity. " 

I have been subjected to some good-natured 
banter for having said that I looked forward to 
a time when our artisans and mechanics would 
be great readers. But it is surely not unreason- 
able to regard our social condition as suscep- 
tible of great improvement. The spread of 
schools, the cheapness of books, the establish- 
ment of free libraries will, it may be hoped, 
exercise a civilizing and ennobling influence. 
They will even, I believe, do much to diminish 
poverty and suffering, so much of which is due 
to ignorance and to the want of interest and 
brightness in uneducated life. So far as our 
elementary schools are concerned, there is no 
doubt much difficulty in apportioning the 
National Grant without unduly stimulating 
mere mechanical instruction. But this is not 
the place to discuss the subject of religious or 
moral training, or the system of apportioning 
the grant. 

If we succeed in giving the love of learning, 
the learning itself is sure to follow. 

We should then endeavor to educate our 
children so that every country walk may be a 
pleasure, that the discoveries of science may 
be a living interest; that our national history 
and poetry may be sources of legitimate pride 
and rational enjoyment ; in short, our schools, 
if they are to be worthy of the name — if they 



126 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

are in any measure to fulfill their high func- 
tion — must be something more than mere 
places of dry study; must train the children 
educated in them so that they may be able to 
appreciate and enjoy those intellectual gifts 
which might be, and ought to be, a scource of 
interest and of happiness alike to the high and 
to the low, to the rich and to the poor. 

Education might at least teach us how little 
man yet knows, how much he has to learn; it 
might enable us to realize that those who com- 
plain of the tiresome monotony of life have 
only themselves to blame that knowledge is 
pleasure as well as power; it should lead us 
all to try with Milton "to behold the bright 
countenance of truth in the quiet and still air 
of study," and to realize with Bacon in part, 
if not entirely, that "no pleasure is compar- 
able to the standing upon the vantage ground 
of truth." 

END OF PART I. 






PART II, 



PREFACE. 

"And what is writ, is writ- 
Would it were worthier." 

— Byron. 

Herewith I launch the conclusion of my 
subject. Perhaps I am unwise in. publishing 
a second part. The first was so kindly re- 
ceived that I am running a risk in attempting 
to add to it. 

In the preface, however, to the first part I 
have expressed the hope that the thoughts and 
quotations in which I have found most comfort 
and delight, might be of use to others also. 

In this my most sanguine hopes have been 
more than realized. Not only has the book 
passed through thirteen editions in less than 
two years, but the many letters which I have 
received have been most gratifying. 

Two criticisms have been repeated by sev- 
eral of those who have done me the honor of 
noticing my previous volume. It has been 
said in the first place that my life has been 
exceptionally bright and full, and that I can- 
not therefore judge for others. Nor do I 
attempt to do so. I do not forget, I hope I 
am not ungrateful for, all that has been be- 

127 



128 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

stowed on me. But if I have been greatly 
favored, ought I not to be on that very account 
especially qualified to write on such a theme? 
Moreover, I have had, — who has not, — my 
own sorrows. 

Again, some have complained that there is 
too much quotation — too little of my own. 
This I take to be in reality a great compliment. 
I have not striven to be original. 

If, as I have been assured by many, my 
book have proved a comfort, and have been 
able to cheer in the hour of darkness, that is 
indeed an ample reward, and is the utmost I 
have ever hoped. 

High Elms, 
Down, Kent, April, 1889. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 129 



CHAPTER I. 

AMBITION. 

4 'Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 
(That last infirmity of noble minds) 
To scorn delights and live laborious days." 

— Milton. 

If fame be the last infirmity of noble minds, 
ambition is often the first; though, when 
properly directed, it may be no feeble aid to 
virtue. 

Had not my youthful mind, says Cicero, 
"from many precepts, from many writings, 
drunk in this truth, that glory and virtue 
ought to be the darling, nay, the only wish in 
life ; that, to attain these, the torments of the 
flesh, with the perils of death and exile, are 
to be despised; never had I exposed my per- 
son in so many encounters, and to these daily 
conflicts with the worst of men, for your 
deliverance. But, on this head, books are 
full ; the voice of the wise is full ; the exam- 
ples of antiquity are full: and all these the 
night of barbarism had still enveloped, had it 
not been enlightened by the sun of science. " 

The poet tells us that 

"The many fail: the one succeeds." 
But this is scarcely true. All succeed who 

9 Pleasures 



130 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

deserve, though not perhaps as they hoped. 
An honorable defeat is better than a mean 
victory, and no one is really the worse for 
being beaten, unless he loses heart. Though 
we may not be able to attain, that is no reason 
why we should not aspire. 
I know, says Morris, 

"How far high failure overleaps the bound 
Of low successes." 

And Bacon assures us that "if a man look 
sharp and attentively he shall see fortune; for 
though she is blind, she is not invisible." 

To give ourselves a reasonable prospect of 
success we must realize what we hope to 
achieve; and then make the most of our 
opportunities. Of these the use of time is 
one of the most important. What have we to 
do with time, asks Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
but to fill it up with labor? 

"At the battle of Montebello," said Napo- 
leon, "I ordered Kellermann to attack with 
800 horse, and with these he separated the 
6,000 Hungarian grenadiers before the very 
eyes of the Austrian cavalry. This cavalry 
was half a league off, and required a quarter 
of an hour to arrive on the field of action ; and 
I have observed that it is always these quar- 
ters of an hour that decide the fate of a bat- 
tle," including, we may add, the battle of life. 

Nor must we spare ourselves in other ways, 

for 

"He who thinks in strife 
To earn a deathless fame, must do, nor ever care for 
life." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 131 

In the excitement of the struggle, moreover, 
he will suffer comparatively little from wounds 
and blows which would otherwise cause in- 
tense suffering. 

It is well to weigh scrupulously the object 
in view, to run as little risk as may be, to 
count the cost with care. 

But when the mind is once made up, there 
must be no looking back, you must spare 
yourself no labor, nor shrink from danger. 

"He either fears his fate too much 
Or his deserts are small, 
That dares not put it to the touch 
To gain or lose it all." 

Glory, says Renan, "is after all the thing 
which has the best chance of not being alto- 
gether vanity. " But what is glory? 

Marcus Aurelius observes that "a spider is 
proud when it has caught a fly, a man when 
he has caught a hare, another when he has 
taken a little fish in a net, another when he 
has taken wild boars, another when he has 
taken bears, and another when he has taken 
Sarmatians;" but this, if from one point of 
view it shows the vanity of fame, also encour- 
ages us with the evidence that every one may 
succeed if his objects are but reasonable. 

Alexander may be taken as almost a type 
of Ambition in its usual form, though carried 
to an extreme. 

His desire was to conquer, not to inherit or to 
rule. When news was brought that his father 
Philip had taken some town, or won some 
battle, instead of appearing delighted with it, 



132 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

he used to say to his companions, "My father 
will go on conquering-, till there be nothing 
extraordinary left for you and me to do. ' ' He 
is said even to have been mortified at the num- 
ber of the stars, considering that he had not 
been able to conquer one world. Such ambi- 
tion is justly foredoomed to disappointment. 

The remarks of Philosophers on the vanity 
of ambition refer generally to that unworthy 
form of which Alexander may be taken as the 
type — the idea of self -exaltation, not only 
without any reference to the happiness, but 
even regardless of the sufferings, of others. 

44 A continual and restless search after for- 
tune," says Bacon, "takes up too much of 
their time who have nobler things to observe. " 
Indeed, he elsewhere extends this, and adds, 
44 No man's private fortune can be an end any 
way worthy of his existence." Goethe well 
observes that man " exists for culture; not for 
what he can accomplish, but for what can be 
accomplished in him." 

As regards fame we must not confuse name 
and essence. To be remembered is not neces- 
sarily to be famous. There is infamy as well 
as fame ; and unhappily almost as many are 
remembered for the one as for the other, and 
not a few for a mixture of both. 

Who would not rather be forgotten than 
recollected as Ahab or Jezebel, Nero or Corn- 
modus, Messalina or Heliogabalus, King John, 
or Richard III. ? 

"To be nameless in worthy deeds exceeds an 
infamous history. The Canaanitish woman 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 133 

lives more happily without a name than Hero- 
dias with one ; and who would not rather have 
been the good chief than Pilate?" 

Kings and generals are often remembered 
as much for their deaths as for their lives, for 
their misfortunes as for their successes. The 
Hero of Thermopylae was Leonidas, not 
Xerxes. Alexander's Empire fell to pieces at 
his death. Napoleon was a great genius, 
though no Hero. But what came of all his 
victories? They passed away like the smoke 
of his guns, and he left France weaker, poorer, 
and smaller than he found her. The most 
lasting results of his genius is no military 
glory, but the Code of Napoleon. 

A surer and more glorious title to fame is 
that of those who are remembered for some 
act of justice or self-devotion : the self-sacrifice 
of Leonidas, the good faith of Regulus, are the 
glories of history. 

In some cases where men have been called 
after places, the men are remembered, while 
the places are forgotten. When we speak of 
Palestrina or Perugino, of Nelson or Welling- 
ton, of Newton or Darwin, who remembers 
the towns? We think only of the men. 

Goethe has been called the soul of his cen- 
tury. 

It is true that we have but meager biogra- 
phies of Shakespeare or of Plato; yet how 
much we know about them. 

Statesmen and Generals enjoy great celeb- 
rity during their lives. The newspapers 
chronicle every word and movement. But 



134 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

the fame of the Philosopher and Poet is more 
enduring. 

Wordsworth deprecates monuments to Poets, 
with some exceptions, on this very account. 
The case of Statesmen, he says, is different. 
It is right to commemorate them because they 
might otherwise be forgotten; but Poets live 
in their books forever. 

The real conquerors of the world, indeed, are 
not the generals but the thinkers; not Genghis 
Khan and Akbar, Rameses, or Alexander, but 
Confucius and Buddha, Aristotle, Plato, and 
Christ. The rulers and kings who reigned 
over our ancestors have for the most part long 
since sunk into oblivion — they are forgotten 
for want of some sacred bard to give them 
life — or are remembered, like Suddhodana and 
Pilate, from their association with higher 
spirits. 

Such men's lives cannot be compressed into 
any biography. They lived not merely in 
their own generation, but for all time. When 
we speak of the Elizabethan period we think 
of Shakespeare and Bacon, Raleigh and Spen- 
ser. The ministers and secretaries of state, 
with one or two exceptions, we scarcely 
remember, and Bacon himself is recollected 
less as the Judge than as the Philosopher. 

Moreover, to what do Generals and States- 
men owe their fame? They were celebrated 
for their deeds, but to the Poet and the His- 
torian they owe their fame, and to the Poet and 
Historian we owe their glorious memories and 
the example of their virtues. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 135 

"Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona 
Multi ; sed omnes illacrimabiles 
Urgentur ignotique longa 
Nocte, carentquia vate sacro." 

There were many brave men before Agamem- 
non, but their memory has perished because 
they were celebrated by no divine Bard. 

Montrose happily combined the two when in 
"My dear and only love" he promises, 

"I'll make thee glorious by my pen, 
And famous by my sword/' 

It is remarkable, and encouraging, how 
many of the greatest men have risen from the 
lowest rank, and triumphed over obstacles 
which might well have seemed insurmount- 
able ; nay, even obscurity itself may be a source 
of honor. The very doubts as to Homer's 
birthplace have contributed to this glory, seven 
cities as we all know laying claim to the great 
poet — 

"Smyrna, Chios, Colophon, Salamis, Rhodes, Argos, 

Athena?." 

To take men of Science only. Ray was the 
son of a blacksmith, Watt of a shipwright, 
Franklin of a tallow-chandler, Dalton of a 
handloom weaver, Fraunhofer of a glazier, 
Laplace of a farmer, Linnaeus of a poor curate, 
Faraday of a blacksmith, Lamarck of a bank- 
er's clerk; Davy was an apothecary's assistant, 
Galileo, Kepler, Sprengel, Cuvier, and Sir W. 
Herschel were all children of very poor 
parents 



136 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

It is, on the other hand, sad to think how 
many of our greatest benefactors are unknown 
even by name. Who discovered the art of 
procuring fire? Prometheus is merely the per- 
sonification of forethought. Who invented 
letters? Cadmus is a mere name. 

These inventions, indeed, are lost in the 
mists of antiquity, but even as regards recent 
progress the steps are often so gradual, and so 
numerous, that few inventions can be attributed 
entirely, or even mainly to any one person. 

Columbus is said, and truly said, to have dis- 
covered America, though the Northmen were 
there before him. 

We Englishmen have every reason to be 
proud of our fellow-countrymen. To take 
Philosophers and men of Science only, Bacon 
and Hobbes, Locke and Berkeley, Hume and 
Hamilton, will always be associated with the 
progress of human thought, Newton with grav- 
itation, Adam Smith with Political Economy, 
Young with the undulatory theory of light, 
Herschel with the discovery of Uranus and the 
study of the star depths, Lord Worcester, 
Trevethick, and Watt with the steam-engine, 
Wheatstone with the electric telegraph, Jenner 
with the banishment of smallpox, Simpson 
with the practical application of anaesthetics, 
and Darwin with the creation of modern Nat- 
ural History. 

These men, and such as these, have made 
our history and molded our opinions; and 
though during life they may have occupied, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 137 

comparatively, an insignificant space in the 
eyes of their countrymen, they became at length 
an irresistible power, and have now justly 
grown to a glorious memory. 



10 Pleasures 



138 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER II. 

WEALTH. 

"The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the 
maker of them all."— Proverbs of Solomon. 

Ambition often takes the form of a love of 
money. There are many who have never 
attempted Art or Music, Poetry or Science ; but 
most people do something for a livelihood, and 
consequently an increase of income is not only 
acceptable in itself, but gives a pleasant feel- 
ing of success. 

Doubt is often expressed whether wealth is 
any advantage. I do not myself believe that 
those who are born, as the saying is, with a sil- 
ver spoon in their mouth, are necessarily any 
the happier for it. No doubt wealth entails 
almost more labor than poverty, and certainly 
more anxiety. Still it must, I think, be con- 
fessed that the possession of an income, what- 
ever it may be, which increases somewhat as 
the years roll on, does add to the comfort of 
life. 

Unquestionably the possession of wealth is 
by no means unattended by drawbacks. 
Money and the love of money often go together. 
The poor man, as Emerson says, is the man 
who wishes to be rich; and the more a man 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 139 

has, the more he often longs to be richer. Just 
as drinking often does but increase thirst ; so 
in many cases the craving of riches does grow 
with wealth. 

This is, of course, especially the case when 
money is sought for its own sake. Moreover, 
it is often easier to make money than to keep 
or to enjoy it. Keeping it is dull and anxious 
drudgery. The dread of loss may hang like a 
dark cloud over life. Apicius, when he had 
squandered most of his patrimony, but had still 
250,000 crowns left, committed suicide, as 
Seneca tells us, for fear he should die of 
hunger. 

Wealth is certainly no sinecure. Moreover, 
the value of money depends partly on knowing 
what to do with it, partly on the manner in 
which it is acquired. 

4 'Acquire money, thy friends say, that we 
also may have some. If I can acquire money 
and also keep myself modest, and faithful, and 
magnanimous, point out the way, and I will 
acquire it. But if you ask me to love the 
things which are good and my own, in order 
that you may gain things that are not good, 
see how unfair and unwise you are. For which 
would you rather have? Money, or a faithful 
and modest friend? . . . 

"What hinders a man, who has clearly com- 
prehended these things, from living with a 
light heart, and bearing easily the reins, quietly 
expecting everything which can happen, and 
enduring that which has already happened? 
Would you have me to bear poverty? . Come, 



140 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and you will know what poverty is when it has 
found one who can act well the part of a poor 
man." 

We must bear in mind Solon's answer to 
Croesus, "Sir, if any other come that hath bet- 
ter iron than you, he will be master of all this 
gold. ,, 

Midas is another case in point. He prayed 
that everything he touched might be turned 
into gold, and this prayer was granted. His 
wine turned to gold, his bread turned to gold, 
his clothes, his very bed. 

" Attonitus novitate mali, divesque miserque, 
Eff ugere optat opes, et quae modo voverat, odit. ' ' 

He is by no means the only man who has 
suffered from too much gold. 

The real truth I take to be that wealth is not 
necessarily an advantage, but that whether it 
is so or not depends on the use we make of it. 
The same, however, might be said of most other 
opportunities and privileges; Knowledge and 
Strength, Beauty and Skill, may all be abused; 
if we neglect or misuse them we are worse off 
than if we had never had them. Wealth is 
only a disadvantage in the hands of those who 
do not know how to use it. It gives the com- 
mand of so many other things— leisure, the 
power of helping friends, books, works of art, 
opportunities, and means of travel. 

It would, however, be easy to exaggerate the 
advantages of money. It is well worth hav- 
ing, and worth working for, but it does not 
require too great a sacrifice; not indeed so 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 141 

great as is often offered up to it. A wise pro- 
verb tells us that gold may be bought too dear. 
If wealth is to be valued because it gives leisure 
clearly it would be a mistake to sacrifice leisure 
in the struggle for wealth. Money has no 
doubt also a tendency to make men poor in 
spirit. But, on the other hand, what gift is 
there which is without danger? 

Euripides said that money finds friends for 
men, and has great (he said the greatest) 
power among Mankind, cynically adding, "A 
mighty person indeed is a rich man, especially 
if his heir be unknown. " 

Bossuet tells us that "he had no attachment 
to riches, still if he had only what was barely 
necessary, he felt himself narrowed, and would 
lose more than half his talents. ' ' 

Shelley was certainly not an avaricious man, 
and yet, "I desire money," he said, "because 
I think I know the use of it. It commands 
labor, it gives leisure; and to give leisure to 
those who will employ it in the forwarding of 
truth is the noblest present an individual can 
make to the whole. ' * 

Many will have felt with Pepys when he 
quaintly and piously says, "Abroad with my 
wife, the first time that ever I rode in my own 
coach; which do make my heart rejoice and 
praise God, and pray him to bless it to me, 
and continue it." 

This, indeed, was a somewhat selfish satisfac- 
tion. Yet the merchant need not quit nor be 
ashamed of his profession, bearing in mind 
only the inscription on the Church of St. Gia- 



!42 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

como de Rialto at Venice: " Around this 
temple let the merchant's law be just, his 
weights true, and his covenants faithful. " 

If life has been sacrificed to the rolling up of 
money for its own sake, the very means by 
which it was acquired will prevent its being 
enjoyed; the chill of poverty will have entered 
into the very bones. The term Miser was hap- 
pily chosen for such persons; they are essen- 
tially miserable. 

44 A collector peeps into all the picture shops 
of Europe for a landscape of Poussin, a crayon 
sketch of Salvator; but the Transfiguration, 
the Last Judgment, the Communion of St. Jer- 
ome, and what are as transcendent as these, 
are on the walls of the Vatican, the Uffizi, or 
the Louvre, where every footman may see 
them; to say nothing of Nature's pictures in 
every street, of sunsets and sunrises every day, 
and the sculpture of the human body never 
absent. A collector recently bought at public 
auction in London, for one hundred and fifty- 
seven guineas, an autograph of Shakespeare; 
but for nothing a schoolboy can read Hamlet, 
and can detect secrets of highest concernment 
yet unpublished therein." And yet "What 
hath the owner but the sight of it with his 
eyes?" 

We are really richer than we think. We 
often hear of Earth hunger. People envy a 
great Landlord, and fancy how delightful it 
must be to possess a large estate. But, as 
Emerson says, "if you own land, the land owns 
you." Moreover, have we not all, in a better 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 143 

sense — have we not all thousands of acres of 
our own? The commons, and roads, and foot- 
paths, and the sea-shore, our grand and varied 
coast — these are all ours. The sea-coast has, 
moreover, two great advantages. In the first 
place, it is for the most part but little inter- 
fered with by man, and in the second it exhibits 
most instructively the forces of Nature. We 
are all great landed proprietors, if we only 
knew it. What we lack is not land, but the 
power to enjoy it. Moreover, this great inher- 
itance has the additional advantage that it 
entails no labor, requires no management. 
The landlord has the trouble, but the landscape 
belongs to every one who has eyes to see it. 
Thus Kingsley called the heaths round Evers- 
ley his " winter garden;" not because they 
were his in the eye of the law, but in that 
higher sense in which ten thousand persons 
may own the same thing. 



144 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER III. 

HEALTH. 

•'Health is best for mortal man, next beauty : thirdly 
well-gotten wealth; fourthly, the pleasure of youth 
among friends. ' ' — Simonides. 

But if there has been some difference of 
opinion as to the advantage of wealth, with 
reference to health all are agreed. 

"Health," said Simonides long ago, "is best 
for mortal man; next beauty; thirdly, well- 
gotten wealth ; fourthly, the pleasure of youth 
among friends." "Life," says Longfellow, 
"without health is a burden, with health is a 
joy and gladness." Empedocles delivered the 
people of Selinus from a pestilence by draining 
a marsh, and was hailed as a Demigod. We 
are told that a coin was struck in his honor, 
representing the Philosopher in the act of stay- 
ing the hand of Phoebus. 

We scarcely realize, I think, how much we 
owe to Doctors. Our system of Medicine 
seems so natural and obvious that it hardly 
occurs to us as somewhat new and exceptional. 
When we are ill we send for a Physician ; he 
prescribes some medicine ; we take it, and pay 
his fee. But among the lower races of men 
pain and illness are often attributed to the 
presence of evil spirits. The Medicine Man is 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 145 

a Priest, or rather a Sorcerer, more than a true 
Doctor, and his effort is to exorcise the evil 
spirit. 

In other countries where some advance has 
been made, a charm is written on a board, 
washed off, and drunk. In some cases the 
medicine is taken, not by the patient, but by 
the Doctor. Such a system, however, is gen- 
erally transient ; it is naturally discouraged by 
the Profession, and is indeed incompatible with 
a large practice. Even as regards the pay- 
ment we find very different systems. The 
Chinese pay their medical man as long as they 
are well, and stop his salary as soon as they 
are ill. In ancient Egypt we are told that the 
patient feed the Doctor for the first few days, 
after which the Doctor paid the patient until 
he made him well. This is a fascinating sys- 
tem, but might afford too much temptation to 
heroic remedies. 

On the whole our plan seems the best, though 
it does not offer adequate encouragement to 
discovery and research. We do not appreciate 
how much we owe to the discoveries of such 
men as Hunter and Jenner, Simpson and Lis- 
ter. And yet in the matter of health we can 
generally do more for ourselves than the 
greatest Doctors can for us. 

But if all are agreed as to the blessing of 
health, there are many who will not take the 
little trouble, or submit to the slight sacrifices, 
necessary to maintain it. Many, indeed, delib- 
erately ruin their own health, and incur the 



146 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

certainty of an early grave, or an old age of 
suffering. 

No doubt some inherit a constitution which 
renders health almost unattainable. Pope 
spoke of that long disease, his life. Many 
indeed may say, "I suffer, therefore I am. ' ' 
But happily these cases are exceptional. Most 
of us might be well, if we would. It is very 
much our own fault that we are ill. We do 
those things which we ought not to do, and we 
leave undone those things which we ought to 
have done, and then we wonder there is no 
health in us. 

We all know that we can make ourselves ill, 
but few perhaps realize how much we can do 
to keep ourselves well. Much of our suffering 
is self-inflicted. It has been observed that 
among the ancient Egyptians the chief aim of 
life seemed to be to be well buried. Many, 
however, live even now as if this were the prin- 
cipal object of their existence. 

Like Naaman, we expect our health to be the 
subject of some miraculous interference, and 
neglect the homely precautions by which it 
might be secured. 

I am inclined to doubt whether the study of 
health is sufficiently impressed on the minds of 
those entering life. Not that it is desirable to 
potter over minor ailments, to con over books 
on illnesses, or experiment on ourselves with 
medicine. Far from it. The less we fancy 
ourselves ill, or bother about little bodily dis- 
comforts, the more likely perhaps we are to 
preserve our health. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 147 

It is, however, a different matter to study the 
general conditions of health. A well-known 
proverb tells lis that every one is a fool or a 
physician at forty. Unfortunately, however, 
many persons are invalids at forty as well as 
physicians. 

Ill health, however, is no excuse for morose- 
ness. If we have one disease we may at least 
congratulate ourselves that we are escaping all 
the rest. Sydney Smith, ever ready to look on 
the bright side of things, once, when borne 
down by suffering, wrote to a friend that he 
had gout, asthma, and seven other maladies, 
but was 4< otherwise very well;' ' and many of 
the greatest invalids have borne their suffer- 
ings with cheerfulness and good spirits. 

It is said that the celebrated physiognomist, 
Campanella, could so abstract his attention 
from any sufferings of his body, that he was 
even able to endure the rack without much 
pain ; and whoever has the power of concen- 
trating his attention and controlling his will, 
can emancipate himself from most of the minor 
miseries of life. He may have much cause 
for anxiety, his body may be the seat of severe 
suffering, and yet his mind will remain serene 
and unaffected ; he may triumph over care and 
pain. 

But many have undergone much unnecessary 
suffering, and valuable lives have often been 
lost, through ignorance or carelessness. We 
cannot but fancy that the lives of many great 
men might have been much prolonged by the 
exercise of a little ordinary care. 



148 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

If we take musicians only, what a grievous 
loss to the world it is that Pergolesi should 
have died at twenty-six, Schubert at thirty- 
one, Mozart at thirty-five, Purcell at thirty- 
seven, and Mendelssohn at thirty-eight. 

In the old Greek myth the life of Meleager 
was indissolubly connected by fate with the 
existence of a particular log of wood. As long 
as this was kept safe by Althaea, his mother, 
Meleager bore a charmed life. It seems 
wonderful that we do not watch with equal care 
over our body, on the state of which happiness 
so much depends. > 

The requisites of health are plain enough; 
regular habits, daily exercise, cleanliness, and 
moderation in all things — in eating as well as 
in drinking — would keep most people well. 

I need not here dwell on the evils of drink- 
ing, but we perhaps scarcely realize how much 
of the suffering and ill-humor of life is due to 
over-eating. Dyspepsia, for instance, from 
which so many suffer, is in nine cases out of 
ten their own fault, and arises from the com- 
bination of too much food with too little exer- 
cise. To lengthen your life, says an old prov- 
erb, shorten your meals. Plain living and high 
thinking will secure health for most of us, 
though it matters, perhaps, comparatively little 
what a healthy man eats, so long as he does 
not eat too much. 

Mr. Gladstone has told us that the splendid 
health he enjoys is greatly due to his having 
early learnt one simple physiological maxim, 
and laid it down as a rule for himself always 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 149 

to make twenty - five bites at every bit of 
meat. 

"Go to your banquet then, but use delight, 
So as to rise still with an appetite." 

No doubt, however, though the rule not to 
eat or drink too much is simple enough in 
theory, it is not quite so easy in application. 
There have been many Esaus who have sold 
their birthright of health for a mess of pot- 
tage. 

Moreover, it may seem paradoxical, but it is 
certainly true, that in the long run the mod- 
erate man will derive more enjoyment even 
from eating and drinking, than the glutton or 
the drunkard will ever obtain. They know 
not what it is to enjoy "the exquisite taste of 
common dry bread." 

And yet even if we were to consider merely 
the pleasure to be derived from eating and 
drinking, the same rule would hold good. A 
lunch of bread and cheese after a good walk is 
more enjoyable than a Lord Mayor's feast. 
Without wishing, like Apicius, for the neck of 
a stork, so that he might enjoy his dinner 
longer, we must not be ungrateful for the en- 
joyment we derive from eating and drinking, 
even though they be amongst the least aesthetic 
of our pleasures. They are homely, no doubt, 
but they come morning, noon, and night, and 
are not the less real because they have refer- 
ence to the body rather than the soul. 

We speak truly of a healthy appetite, for it 
is a good test of our bodily condition; and, 



150 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

indeed, in some cases of our mental state also. 
That 

"There cometh no good thing 
Apart from toil to mortals," 

is especially true with reference to appetite; 
to sit down to a dinner, however simple, after 
a walk with a friend among the mountains or 
along the shore, is no insignificant pleasure. 

Cheerfulness and good-humor, moreover, 
during meals are not only pleasant in them- 
selves, but conduce greatly to health. 

It has been said that hunger is the best 
sauce, but most would prefer some good stories 
at a feast even to a good appetite; and who 
would not like to have it said of him, as of 
Biron by Rosaline — 

"A merrier man 
Within the limit of becoming mirth 
I never spent an hour's talk withal." 

In the three great "Banquets" of Plato, Xen- 
ophon, and Plutarch, the food is not even men- 
tioned. 

In the words of the old Lambeth adage — 

"What is a merry man? 
Let him do what he can 
To entertain his guests 
With wine and pleasant jests, 
Yet if his wife do frown 
All merriment goes down." 

What salt is to food, wit and humor are ta 
conversation and literature. "You do not, " 
an amusing writer in the Cornhill has said, 
"expect humor in Thomas a Kempis or the 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 151 

Hebrew Prophets'* ; but we have Solomon's 
authority that there is a time to laugh, as well 
as to weep. 

"To read a good comedy is to keep the best 
company in the world, when the best things 
are said, and the most amusing things hap- 
pen. " 

It is not without reason that every one 
resents the imputation of being unable to see 
a joke. 

Laughter appears to be the special preroga- 
tive of man. The higher animals present us 
with proof of evident, if not highly-developed 
reasoning power, but it is more than doubtful 
whether they are capable of appreciating a 
joke. 

Wit, moreover, has solved many difficulties 
and decided many controversies. 

"Ridicule shall frequently prevail, 
And cut the knot when graver reasons fail." 

A careless song, says Walpole, with a little 
nonsense in it now and then, does not misbe- 
come a monarch, but it is difficult now to 
realize that James I. should have regarded skill 
in punning in his selection of bishops and 
privy councilors. 

The most wasted of all days, says Chamfort, 
is that on which one has not laughed. 

It is, moreover, no small merit of laughter 
that it is quite spontaneous. 

4 'You cannot force people to laugh ; you can- 
not give a reason why they should laugh : they 
must laugh of themselves or not at all. . . . 



152 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

If we think we must not laugh, this makes our 
temptation to laugh the greater. " Humor is, 
moreover, contagious. A witty man may say, 
as Falstaff does of himself, "I am not only 
witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in 
other men." 

But one may paraphrase the well-known 
remark about port wine and say that some 
jokes may be better than others, but anything 
which makes one laugh is good. "After all," 
says Dryden, "it is a good thing to laugh at 
any rate ; and if a straw can tickle a man, it is 
an instrument of happiness, " and I may add, 
of health. 

I have been told that in omitting any men- 
tion of smoking I was overlooking one of the 
real pleasures of life. Not being a smoker 
myself I cannot perhaps judge; much must 
depend on the individual temperament; to 
some nervous natures it certainly appears to 
be a great comfort; but I have my doubts 
whether smoking, as a general rule, does add 
to the pleasures of life. It must, moreover, 
detract somewhat from the sensitiveness of 
taste and of smell. 

Those who live in cities may almost lay it 
down as a rule that no time spent out of doors 
is ever wasted. Fresh air is a cordial of incred- 
ible virtue; old families are in all senses county 
families, not town families; and those who 
prefer Homer and Plato and Shakespeare to 
hares and partridges and foxes must beware 
that they are not tempted to neglect this great 
requisite of our nature. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 153 

Most Englishmen, however, love open air, 
and it is probably true that most of us enjoy 
a game at cricket or golf more than looking at 
any of the old masters. The love of sport is 
engraven in the English character. As was 
said of William Rufus, "he loves the tall deer 
as if he had been their father." 

An Oriental traveler is said to have watched 
a game of cricket and been much astonished 
at hearing that many of those playing were 
rich men. He asked why they did not pay 
some poor people to do it for them. 

Wordsworth made it a rule to go out every 
day, and he used to say that as he. never con- 
sulted the weather, he never had to consult 
the physicians. 

It always seems to be raining harder than it 
really is when you look at the weather through 
the window. Even in winter, though the 
landscape often seems cheerless and bare 
enough when you look at it from the fireside, 
still it is far better to go out, even if you have 
to brave the storm: when you are once out 
of doors the touch of earth and the breath of 
the fresh air gives you fresh life and energy. 
Men, like trees, live in great part on air. 

After a gallop over the downs, a row on the 
river, a sea voyage, a walk by the sea-shore or 
in the woods, 

"The blue above, the music in the air, 
The flowers upon the ground, 

one feels as if one could say with Henry IV., 
"}e me porte comme le PontNeuf. " 



154 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

The Roman proverb that a child should be 
taught nothing which he cannot learn stand- 
ing up, went no doubt into an extreme, but 
surely we fall into another when we act as if 
games were the only thing which boys could 
learn upon their feet. 

The love of games among boys is certainly 
a healthy instinct, and though carried too far 
in some of our great schools, there can be no 
question that cricket and football, boating and 
hockey, bathing and birdnesting, are not only 
the greatest pleasures, but the best medicines 
for boys. 

We cannot always secure sleep. When im- 
portant decisions have to be taken, the natural 
anxiety to come to a right decision will often 
keep us awake. Nothing, however, is more 
conducive to healthy sleep than plenty of open 
air. Then, indeed, we can enjoy the fresh life 
of the early morning; "the breezy call of in- 
cense-bearing morn. " 

"At morn the Blackcock trims his jetty wing, 
'Tis morning tempts the linnet's blithest lay. 
All nature's children feel the matin spring 
Of life reviving with reviving day." 

Epictetus described himself as "a spirit 
bearing about a corpse." That seems to me 
an ungrateful description. Surely we ought 
to cherish the body, even if it be but a frail 
and humble companion. Do we not owe to the 
eye our enjoyment of the beauties of this 
world and the glories of the Heavens; to the 
ear the voices of friends and all the delights 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 155 

of music; are not the hands most faithful and 
invaluable instruments, ever ready in case of 
need, ever willing to do our bidding; and even 
the feet bear us without a murmur along the 
roughest and stoniest paths of life. 

With reasonable care then, most of us may 
hope to enjoy good health. And yet what a 
marvelous and complex organization we have ! 

We are indeed fearfully and wonderfully 
made. It is 

"Strange that a harp of a thousand strings 
Should keep in tune so long." 

When we consider the marvelous complexity 
of our bodily organization, it seems a miracle 
that we should live at all ; much more that the 
innumerable organs and processes should con- 
tinue day after day and year after year with so 
much regularity and so little friction, that we 
are sometimes scarcely conscious of having a 
body at all. 

And yet in that body we have more than 200 
bones, of complex and varied forms, any 
irregularity in or injury to, which would of 
course grievously interfere with our move- 
meats. 

We have over 500 muscles; each nourished 
by almost innumerable blood-vessels, and reg- 
ulated by nerves. One of our muscles, the 
heart, beats over 30,000,000 times in a year, 
and if it once stops, all is over. 

In the skin are wonderfully varied and com- 
plex organs — for instance, over 2,000,000 per- 
spiration glands, which regulate the tempera- 



156 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

ture and communicate with the surface by 
ducts, which have a total length of some ten 
miles. 

Think of the miles of arteries and veins, of 
capillaries and nerves; of the blood, with the 
millions of millions of blood corpuscles, each 
a microcosm in itself. 

Think of the organs of sense, — the eye with 
its cornea and lens, vitreous humor, aqueous 
humor, and choroid, culminating in the retina, 
no thicker than a sheet of paper, and yet con- 
sisting of nine distinct layers, the innermost 
composed of rods and cones, supposed to be 
the immediate recipients of the undulations of 
light, and so numerous that in each eye the 
cones are estimated at over 3,000,000, the rods 
at over 30,000,000. 

Above all, and most wonderful of all, the 
brain itself. Meinert has calculated that the 
gray matter of the convolutions alone contains 
no less than 600,000,000 cells; each cell con- 
sists of several thousand visible atoms, and 
each atom again of many millions of molecules. 

And yet with reasonable care we can most 
of us keep this wonderful organization in 
health, so that it will work without causing 
us pain, or even discomfort, for many years ; 
and we may hope that even when old age 
comes 

''Time may lay his hand 
Upon your heart gently, not smiting it. 
But as a harper lays his open palm 
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 157 



CHAPTER IV. 

LOVE. 

"Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And men below and saints above ; 
For love is heaven and heaven is love." 

—Scott. 

Love is the light and sunshine of life. We 
are so constituted that we cannot fully enjoy 
ourselves, or anything else, unless some one 
we love enjoys it with us. Even if we are 
alone, we store up our enjoyment in hope of 
Sharing it hereafter with those we love. 

Love lasts through life, and adapts itself to 
every age and circumstance ; in childhood for 
father and mother, in manhood for wife, in 
age for children, and throughout for brothers 
and sisters, relations and friends. The strength 
of friendship is indeed proverbial, and in some 
cases, as in that of David and Jonathan, is 
described as surpassing the love of women. 
But I need not now refer to it, having spoken 
already of what we owe to friends. 

The goodness of Providence to man has been 
often compared to that of fathers and mothers 
for their children. 

<( Just as a mother, with sweet, pious face, 
Yearns toward her little children from her seat, 
Gives one a kiss, another an embrace, 



158 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Takes this upon her knees, that on her feet ; 

And while from actions, looks, complaints, pretenses, 

She learns their feelings and their various will, 

To this a look, to that word, dispenses, 

And, whether stern or smiling, loves them still ; — 

So Providence for us, high, infinite, 

Makes our necessities its watchful task, 

Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants, 

And e'en if it denies what seems our right, 

Either denies because 'twould have us ask, 

Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants."* 

Sir Walter Scott well says — 

"And if there be on Earth a tear 
From passion's dross f refined and clear, 
'Tis that which pious fathers shed 
Upon a duteous daughter's head." 

Epaminondas is said to have given as his 
main reason for rejoicing at the victory of 
Leuctra, that it would give so much pleasure 
to his father and mother. 

Nor must the love of animals be altogether 
omitted. It is impossible not to sympathize 
with the Savage when he believes in their 
immortality, and thinks that after death 

" Admitted to that equal sky 
His faithful dogs shall bear him company." 

In the Mahabharata, the great Indian Epic 
when the family of Pandavas, the heroes, at 
length reach the gates of heaven, they are 
welcomed themselves, but are told that their 
dog cannot come in. Having pleaded in vain, 
they turn to depart, as they say they can never 
leave their faithful companion. Then at the 

*Filicaja. Translated by Leigh Hunt. 
fNot from passion itself. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 159 

last moment the Angel at the door relents, and 
their Dog is allowed to enter with them. 

We may hope the time will come when we 
shall learn 

"Never to blend our pleasure or our pride, 
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels." 

But at the present moment I am speaking 
rather of the love which leads to marriage. 
Such love is the music of life, nay, " there is 
music in the beauty, and the silent note of 
love, far sweeter than the sound of any instru- 
ment. " 

The Symposium of Plato contains an inter- 
esting and amusing disquisition on Love. 

"Love," Phaedrus is made to say, "will 

make men dare to die for their beloved ■ 

love alone ; and women as well as men. Of 
this, Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, is a 
monument to all Hellas; for she was willing 
to lay down her life on behalf of her husband, 
when no one else would, although he had a 
father and mother; but the tenderness of her 
love so far exceeded theirs, that she made 
them seem to be strangers in blood to their 
own son, and in name only related to him ; and 
so noble did this action of hers appear to the 
gods, as well as to men, that among the 
many who have done virtuously she is one of 
the very few to whom they have granted the 
privilege of returning to earth, in admiration 
of her virtue; such exceeding honor is paid 
by them to the devotion and virtue of love. ' ' 

Agathon is even more eloquent — 



160 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Love " fills men with affection, and takes 
away their disaffection, making them meet 
together at such banquets as these. In sacri- 
fices, feasts, dances, he is our lord — supplying 
kindness and banishing unkindness, giving 
friendship and forgiving enmity, and joy of 
the good, the wonder of the wise, the amaze- 
ment of the gods, desired by those who have 
no part in him, and precious to those who have 
the better part in him; parent of delicacy, 
luxury, desire, fondness, softness, grace, re- 
gardful of the good, regardless of the evil. In 
every word, work, wish, fear — pilot, comrade, 
helper, savior; glory of gods and men, leader, 
best and brightest ; in whose footsteps let every 
man follow, sweetly singing in his honor that 
sweet strain with which love charms the souls 
of gods and men. ' ■ 

No doubt, even so there are two Loves, 
4 'one, the daughter of Uranus, who has no 
mother, and is the elder and wiser goddess, 
and the other, the daughter of Zeus and Dione, 
who is popular and common" — but let us not 
examine too closely. Charity tells us even of 
Guinevere, "that while she lived, she was a 
good lover and therefore she had a good end. " 

The origin of love has exercised philosophers 
almost as much as the origin of evil. The 
Symposium continues with a speech which 
Plato attributes in joke to Aristophanes, and 
of which Jowett observes that nothing in Aris- 
toplanes is more truly Aristophanic. 

The original human nature, he says, was not 
like the present. The Primeval Man was 




"The sea-shore, our i 



rand and varied coast."- 

Pleasures of Life. 



Page 143. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 161 

round, his back and sides forming a circle; 
and he had four hands and four feet, one head 
with two faces, looking opposite ways, set on 
a round neck and precisely alike. He could 
walk upright as men now do, backward or for- 
ward as he pleased, and he could also roll over 
and over at a great rate, whirling round on 
his four hands and four feet, eight in all, like 
tumblers going over and over with their legs 
in the air ; this was when he wanted to run 
fast. Terrible was their might and strength, 
and the thoughts of their hearts were great, 
and they made an attack upon the gods; of 
them is told the tale of Otys and Ephialtes, 
who, as Homer says, dared to scale heaven, 
and would have laid hands upon the gods. 
Doubt reigned in the celestial councils. Should 
they kill them and annihilate the race with 
thunderbolts, as they had done the giants, 
then there would be an end of the sacrifices 
and worship which men offered to them ; but, 
on the other hand, the gods could not suffer 
their insolence to be unrestrained. At last, 
after a good deal of reflection, Zeus discovered 
a way. He said: "Methinks I have a plan 
which will humble their pride and mend their 
manners; they shall continue to exist, but I 
will cut them in two, which will have a double 
advantage, for it will halve their strength 
and we shall have twice as many sacrifices. 
They shall walk upright on two legs, and if 
they continue insolent and will not be quiet, I 
will split them again and they shall hop on a 
single leg. " He spoke and cut men in two, 

11 Pleasures 



162 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"as you might split an egg with a hair." . . . 
After the division the two parts of man, each 
desiring his other half, came together. . . . 
So ancient is the desire of one another which 
is implanted in us, reuniting our original 
nature, making one of two, and healing' the 
state of man. Each of us when separated is 
but the indenture of a man, having one side 
only, like a flat-fish, and he is always looking 
for his other half. 

And when one of them finds his other half, 
the pair are lost in amazement of love and 
friendship and intimacy, and one will not be 
out of the other's sight, as I may say, even 
for a minute : they will pass their whole lives 
together; yet they could not explain what 
they desire of one another. For the intense 
yearning which each of them has toward the 
other does not appear to be the desire of 
lovers' intercourse, but of something else, 
which the soul of either evidently desires and 
cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark 
and doubtful presentiment. 

However this may be, there is such instinc- 
tive insight in the human heart that we often 
form our opinion almost instantaneously, and 
such impressions seldom change, I might even 
say, they are seldom wrong. Love at first 
sight sounds like an imprudence, and yet is 
almost a revelation. It seems as if we were 
but renewing the relations of a previous exist- 
ence. 

"But to see her were to love her, 
Love but her, and love forever." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 163 

Yet though experience seldom falsifies such a 
feeling, happily the reverse does not hold good. 
The deepest affection is often of slow growth. 
Many a warm love has been won by faithful 
devotion. 

Montaigne indeed declares that "Few have 
married for love without repenting it. " Dr. 
Johnson also maintains that marriages would 
generally be happier if they were arranged 
by the Lord Chancellor; but I do not think 
either Montaigne or Johnson were good judges. 
As Lancelot said to the unfortunate Maid of 
Astolet, "I love not to be constrained to love, 
for love must arise of the heart and not by 
constraint. ' ' 

Love defies distance and the elements; 
Sestor and Abydos are divided by the sea, 
"but Love joined them by an arrow from his 
bow." 

Love can be happy anywhere. Byron 
wished 

"O that the desert were my dwelling-place, 
With one fair Spirit for my minister, 
That I might all forget the human race, 
And, hating no one, love but only her." 

And many will doubtless have felt 

"O Love! what hours were thine and mine 
In lands of Palm and southern Pine, 
In lands of Palm, of Orange blossom, 
Of Olive, Aloe, and Maize and Vine." 

What is true of space holds good equally of 
time. 



164 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed, 
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; 
In halls, in gay attire is seen ; 
In hamlets, dances on the green. 
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And men below, and saints above ; 
For love is heaven, and heaven is love." 

Even when, as among some Eastern races, 
Religion and Philosophy have combined to de- 
press love, truth reasserts itself, in popular 
sayings, as for instance, in the Turkish prov- 
erb, "All women are perfection, especially she 
who loves you." 

A French lady having once quoted to Abd- 
el-Kader the Polish proverb, " A woman draws 
more with a hair of her head than a pair of 
oxen well harnessed ;" he answered with a 
smile, "The hair is unnecessary, woman is 
powerful as fate." 

But we like to think of Love rather as the 
Angel of Happiness than as a ruling force: of 
the joy of home when "hearts are of each 
other sure." 

"It is the secret sympathy, 
The silver link, the silken tie. 
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind 
In body and in soul can bind." 

What Bacon says of a friend is even truer of 
a wife; there is "no man that imparteth his 
joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more ; 
and no man that imparteth his griefs to his 
friend, but he grieveth the less." 

Let some one we love come near us and 

•' At once it seems that something new or strange 

Has passed upon the flowers, the trees, the ground ; 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 165 

Some slight but unintelligible change 
On everything around." 

We might, I think, apply to love what 
Homer says of Fate: 

"Her feet are tender, for she sets her steps 
Not on the ground, but on the heads of men." 

Love and Reason divide the life of man. 
We must give to each its due. If it is impos- 
sible to attain to virtue by the aid of Reason 
without Love, neither can we do so by means 
of Love alone without Reason. 

Love, said Melanippides, "sowing in the 
heart of man the sweet harvest of desire, 
mixes the sweetest and most beautiful things 
together. ' ' 

No one indeed could complain now, with 
Phsedrus in Plato's Symposium, that Love has 
had no worshipers among the Poets. On the 
contrary, Love has brought them many of 
their sweetest inspirations; none perhaps 
nobler or more beautiful than Milton's descrip- 
tion of Paradise : 

"With thee conversing, I forget all time, 
All seasons, and their change, all please alike. 
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet 
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun 
When first on this delightful land he spreads 
His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower 
Glistering with dew, fragrant the fertile earth 
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 
Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night 
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, 
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train : 
But neither breath of morn when she ascends 
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun 



166 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower 
Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers, 
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night 
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon 
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet." 

Moreover, no one need despair of an ideal 
marriage. We fortunately differ so much in 
our tastes ; love does so much to create love, 
that even the humblest may hope for the hap- 
piest marriage if only he deserves it; and 
Shakespeare speaks, as he does so often, for 
thousands when he says 

"She is mine own, 
And I as rich in having such a jewel 
As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearls, 
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold." 

True love indeed will not be unreasonable 
or exacting. 

"Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind 

That from the nunnery 
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind 

To war and arms I fly. 
True ! a new mistress now I chase, 

The first foe in the field, 
And with a stronger faith embrace 

A sword, a horse, a shield. 
Yet this inconstancy is such 

As you too shall adore, 
I could not love thee, dear, so much, 

Loved I not honor more." 

And yet 

"Alas! how light a cause may move 
Dissension between hearts that love ! 
Hearts that the world in vain had tried, 
And sorrow but more closely tied, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 167 

That stood the storm, when waves were rough, 
Yet in sunny hour fall off, 
Like ships that have gone down at sea, 
When heaven was all tranquillity. ' ' 

For love is brittle. Do not risk even any 
little jar; it may be 

"The little rift within the lute, 
That by and by will make the music mute, 
And ever widening slowly silence all." 

Love is delicate; "Love is hurt with jar and 
fret, ' ' and you might as well expect a violin 
to remain in tune if roughly used, as Love to 
survive if chilled or driven into itself. But 
what a pleasure to keep it alive by 

"Little, nameless, unremembered acts 
Of kindness and of love." 

"She whom you loved and chose," says 
Bondi, 

"Is now your bride, 

The gift of heaven, and to your trust consigned; 

Honor her still, though not with passion blind; 

And in her virtue, though you watch, confide. 
Be to her youth a comfort, guardian, guide, 

In whose experience she may safety find ; 

And whether sweet or bitter be assigned, 

The joy with her, as well as pain, divide. 
Yield not too much if reason disapprove ; 

Nor too much force ; the partner of your life 

Should neither victim be, nor tyrant prove. 
Thus shall that rein, which often mars the bliss 

Of wedlock, scarce be felt ; and thus your wife 

Ne'er in the husband shall the lover miss." 

Every one is ennobled by true love — 

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all." 



168 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Perhaps no one ever praised a woman more 
gracefully in a sentence than Steele, when he 
said of Lady Elizabeth Hastings that "to know 
her was a liberal education ;" but every 
woman may feel as she improves herself that 
she is not only laying in a store of happiness 
for herself, but also raising and blessing him 
whom she would most wish to see happy and 
good. 

Love, true love, grows and deepens with 
time. Husband and wife, who are married 
indeed, live 

"By each other, till to love and live 
Be one." 

Nor does it end with life. A mother's love 
knows no bounds. 

"They err who tell us Love can die, 
With life all other passions fly, 

All others are but vanity. 
In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, 
Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ; 
Earthly these passions of the Earth ; 
They perish where they have their birth, 
But Love is indestructible ; 

Its holy flame forever burneth, 
From Heaven it came, to Heaven retumeth ; 

Too oft on Earth a troubled guest, 

At times deceived, at times opprest, 
It here is tried and purified, 

Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest: 
It soweth here with toil and care, 
But the harvest time of Love is there. 

••The Mother when she meets on high 
The Babe she lost in infancy, 
Hath she not then, for pains and fears, 
The day of woe, the watchful night, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 169 

For all her sorrows, all her fears, 
An over-payment of delight?" 

As life wears on the love of husband or wife, 
of friends and of children, becomes the great 
solace and delight of age. The one recalls the 
past, the other gives interest to the future ; and 
in our children, it has been truly said we live 
our lives again. 



12 Pleasures 



170 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER V. 

ART. 

4 'High art consists neither in altering, nor improving 
nature; but in seeking throughout nature for 4 whatso- 
ever things are lovely, whatsoever things are pure ;' in 
loving these, in displaying to the utmost of the painter's 
power such loveliness as is in them, and directing the 
thoughts of others to them by winning art or gentle 
emphasis. Art {ceteris paribus) is great in exact pro- 
portion to the love of beauty shown by the painter, 
provided that love of beauty forfeits no atom of truth." 

— Ruskin. 

The most ancient works of Art which we 
possess are representations of animals, rude 
indeed, but often strikingly characteristic, en- 
graved on, or carved in stag's-horn or bone: 
and found in English, French, and German 
caves, with stone and other rude implements, 
and the remains of mammalia, belonging 
apparently to the close of the glacial epoch : 
not only of the deer, bear, and other animals 
now inhabiting temperate Europe, but of some, 
such as the reindeer, the musk sheep, and the 
mammoth, which have either retreated north 
or become altogether extinct. We may, I 
think, venture to hope that other designs may 
hereafter be found, which will give us addi- 
tional information as to the manners and cus- 
toms of our ancestors in those remote ages. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 171 

Next to these in point of antiquity come the 
sculptures and paintings on Assyrian and 
Egyptian tombs, temples, and palaces. 

These ancient scenes, considered as works 
of art, have no doubt many faults, and yet how 
graphically they tell their story! As a matter 
of fact a king is not, as a rule, bigger than his 
soldiers, but in these battle-scenes he is 
always so represented. We must, however, 
remember that in ancient warfare the greater 
part of the fighting was, as a matter of fact, 
done by the chiefs. In this respect the 
Homeric poems resemble the Assyrian and 
Egyptian representations. At any rate, we 
see at a glance which is the king, which are 
officers, which side is victorious, the struggles 
and sufferings of the wounded, the flight of 
the enemy, the city of refuge — so that he who 
runs may read; while in modern battle-pic- 
tures the story is much less clear, and, indeed, 
the untrained eye sees for some time little but 
scarlet and smoke. 

These works assuredly possess a grandeur 
and dignity of their own, even though they 
have not the beauty of later art. 

In Greece Art reached a perfection which 
has never been excelled, and it was more 
appreciated than perhaps it has ever been since. 

At the time when Demetrius attacked the 
city of Rhodes, Protogenes was painting a 
picture of Ialysus. "This, " says Pliny, "hin- 
dered King Demetrius from taking Rhodes, 
out of fear lest he should burn the picture; 
and not being able to fire the town on any 



172 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

other side, he was pleased rather to spare the 
painting than to take the victory, which was 
already in his hands. Protogenes, at that time, 
had his painting-room in a garden out of the 
town, and very near the camp of the enemies, 
where he was daily finishing those pieces 
which he had already begun, the noise of 
soldiers not being capable of interrupting his 
studies. But Demetrius causing him to be 
brought into his presence, and asking him 
what made him so bold as to work in the midst 
of the enemies, he answered the king, 'That 
he understood the war which he made was 
against the Rhodians, and not against the 
Arts/ M 

With the decay of Greece, Art sank, too, until 
it was revived in the thirteenth century by 
Cimabue, since whose time its progress has 
been triumphal. 

Art is unquestionably one of the purest and 
highest elements in human happiness. It 
trains the mind through the eye, and the eye 
through the mind. As the sun colors flowers, 
so does art color life. 

"In true Art," says Ruskin, "the hand, the 
head, and the heart of man go together. But 
Art is no recreation : it cannot be learned at 
spare moments, nor pursued when we have 
nothing better to do. ' ' 

It is not only in the East that great works, 
really due to study and labor, have been attri- 
buted to magic. 

Study and labor cannot make every man an 
artist, but no one can succeed in art without 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 173 

them. In Art two and two do not make four, 
and no number of little things will make a 
great one. 

It has been said, and on high authority, 
that the end of all art is to please. But this is 
a very imperfect definition. It might as well 
be said that a library is only intended for 
pleasure and ornament. 

Art has the advantage of nature, in so far as 
it introduces a human element, which is in 
some respects superior even to nature. "If, " 
says Plato, "you take a man as he is made by 
nature and compare him with another who is 
the effect of art, the work of nature will 
always appear the less beautiful ; because art 
is more accurate than nature. ' ' 

Bacon also, in The Advancement of Learn- 
ing, speaks of "the world being inferior to the 
soul, by reason whereof there is agreeable to 
the spirit of man a more ample greatness, a 
more exact goodness, and a more absolute vari- 
ety than can be found in the nature of things. " 

The poets tell us that Prometheus, having 
made a beautiful statue of Minerva, the god- 
dess was so delighted that she offered to bring 
down anything from Heaven which could add 
to its perfection. Prometheus on this pru- 
dently asked her to take him there, so that he 
might choose for himself. This Minerva did, 
and Prometheus, finding that in Heaven all 
things were animated by fire, brought back a 
spark, with which he gave life to his work. 

In fact, Imitation is the means and not the 
end of Art. The story of Zeuxis and Parrhasius 



174 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

is a pretty tale ; but to deceive birds, or even 
man himself, is but a trifling matter compared 
with the higher functions of Art. To imitate 
the Iliad, says Dr. Young, is not imitating 
Homer, but as Sir J. Reynolds adds, the more 
the artist studies nature "the nearer he 
approaches to the true and perfect idea of art. " 

"Following these rules and using these pre- 
cautions, when you have clearly and distinctly 
learned in what good coloring consists, you 
cannot do better than have recourse to Nature 
herself, who is always at hand, and in compar- 
ison of whose true splendor the best colored 
pictures are but faint and feeble." 

Art, indeed, must create as well as copy. 
As Victor Cousin well says, "The ideal with 
out the real lacks life; but the real without the 
ideal lacks pure beauty. Both need to unite ; 
to join hands and enter into alliance. In this 
way the best work may be achieved. Thus 
beauty is an absolute idea, and not a mere copy 
of imperfect Nature. ' ' 

The grouping of the picture is of course of 
the utmost importance. Sir Joshua Reynolds 
gives two remarkable cases to show how much 
any given figure in a picture is affected by its 
surroundings. Tintoret in one of his pictures 
has taken the Samson of Michael Angelo, put 
an eagle under him, placed thunder and light- 
ening in his right hand instead of the jawbone 
of an ass, and thus turned him into a Jupiter. 
The second instance is even more striking. 
Titian has copied the figure in the vault of the 
Sistine Chapel which represents the Diety 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 175 

dividing light from darkness, and has intro- 
duced it into his picture of the battle of Cadore, 
to represent a general falling from his horse. 

We must remember that so far as the eye is 
concerned, the object, of the artist is to train, 
not to deceive, and that his higher function has 
reference rather to the mind than to the eye. 

No doubt. 

"To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
To throw a perfume on the violet, 
To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess." 

But all is not gold that glitters, flowers are not 
all arrayed like the lily, and there is room for 
selection as well as representation. 

11 The true, the good, and the beautiful, " says 
Cousin, "are but forms of the infinite: what 
then do we really love in truth, beauty, and 
virtue? We love the infinite himself. The 
love of the infinite substance is hidden under 
the love of its forms. It is so truly the infinite 
which charms in the true, the good, and the 
beautiful, that its manifestations alone do not 
suffice. The artist is dissatisfied at the sight 
even of his greatest works; he aspires still 
higher." 

It is, indeed, sometimes objected that Land- 
scape painting is not true to nature ; but we 
must ask, What is truth? Is the object to 
produce the same impression on the mind as 
that created by the scene itself? If so, let any 
one try to draw from memory a group of 



176 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

mountains, and he will probably find that in 
the impression produced on his mind the 
mountains are loftier and steeper, the valleys 
deeper and narrower, than in the actual reality. 
A drawing, then, which was literally exact 
would not be true, in the sense of conveying 
the same impression as Nature herself. 

In fact, Art, says Goethe, is called Art simply 
because it is not Nature. 

It is not sufficient for the artist to choose 
beautiful scenery, and delineate it with 
accuracy. He must not be a mere copyist. 
Something higher and more subtle is required. 
He must create or at any rate interpret, as well 
as copy. 

Turner was never satisfied merely to reach to 
even the most glorious scenery. He moved, 
and even suppressed, mountains. 

A certain nobleman, we are told, was very 
anxious to see the model from whom Guido 
painted his lovely female faces. Guido placed 
his color grinder, a big coarse man, in an atti- 
tude, and then drew a beautiful Magdalen. 
"My dear Count," he said, "the beautiful and 
pure idea must be in the mind, and then it is 
no matter what the model is." 

Guido Reni, who painted St. Michael for the 
Church of the Capuchins at Rome, wished that 
he "had the wings of an angel, to have ascended 
tinto Paradise, and there to have beheld the 
forms of those beautiful spirits, from which I 
might have copied my Archangel. But not 
being able to mount so high, it was in vain for 
me to seek for his resemblance here below ; so 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 177 

that I was forced to look into mine own mind, 
and into that idea of beauty which I have 
formed in my own imagination. ' ' 

Science attempts, as far as the limited pow- 
ers of Man permit, to reproduce the actual facts 
in a manner which, however bald, is true in 
itself, irrespective of time and scene. To do 
this she must submit to many limitations ; not 
altogether unvexatious, and not without seri- 
ous drawbacks. Art, on the contrary, endeav- 
ors to convey the impression of the original 
under some especial aspect. 

In some respects, Art gives a clearer and 
more vivid idea of an unknown country than 
any description can convey. In literature rock 
may be rock, but in painting it must be granite 
or slate, and not merely rock in general. 

It is remarkable that while artists have long 
recognized the necessity of studying anatomy, 
and there has been from the commencement, 
a professor of anatomy in the Royal Academy, 
it is only of late years that any knowledge of 
botany or geology has been considered desir- 
able, and even now their importance is by no 
means generally recognized. 

Much has been written as to the relative 
merits of painting, sculpture, and architecture. 
This, if it be not a somewhat unprofitable 
inquiry, would at any rate be out of place here. 

Architecture not only gives intense pleasure, 
but even the impression of something ethereal 
and superhuman. 

Madame de Stael described it as "frozen 
music;" and a cathedral is a " glorious specimen 



178 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

of thought in stone," whose very windows are 
transparent walls of gorgeous hue. 

Caracci said that poets paint in their words 
and artists speak in their works. The latter 
have indeed one great advantage for a glance 
at a statue or a painting will convey a more 
vivid idea than a long and minute description. 

Another advantage possessed by art is that 
it is understood by all civilized nations, whilst 
each has a separate language. 

Even from a material point of view Art is 
most important. In a recent address Sir F. 
Leigh ton has observed that the study of Art 
"is every day becoming more important in 
relation to certain sides of the warning mate- 
rial prosperity of the country. For the indus- 
trial competition between this and other coun- 
tries — a competition, keen and eager, which 
means to certain industries almost a race for 
life — runs, in many cases, no longer exclus- 
ively or mainly on the lines of excellence of 
material and solidity of workmanship, but 
greatly nowadays on the lines of artistic charm 
and beauty of design. M 

The highest service, however, that Art can 
accomplish for man is to become "at once the 
voice of his nobler aspirations, and the steady 
disciplinarian of his emotions ; and it is with 
this mission, rather than with any aesthetic per- 
fection, that we are at present concerned." 

Science and Art are sisters, or rather per- 
haps they are like brother and sister. The 
mission of Art is in some respects like that of 
woman. It is not Hers so much to do the hard 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 179 

toil and moil of the world, as to surround it 
with a halo of beauty, to convert work into 
pleasure. 

In science we naturally expect progress, but 
in Art the case is not so clear; and yet Sir 
Joshua Reynolds did not hesitate to express his 
conviction that in the future "so much will 
painting improve, that the best we can now 
achieve will appear like the work of children, ' ' 
and we may hope that our power of enjoying it 
may increase in an equal ratio. Wordsworth 
says that poets have to create the taste for 
their own works, and the same is, in some 
degree at any rate, true of artists. 

In one respect especially modern painters 
appear to have made a marked advance, and 
one great blessing which in fact we owe to 
them is a more vivid enjoyment of scenery. 

I have of course no pretensions to speak with 
authority, but even in the case of the greatest 
masters before Turner, the landscapes seem to 
me singularly inferior to the figures. Sir 
Joshua Reynolds tells us that Gainsborough 
framed a kind of model of a landscape on his 
table, composed of broken stones, dried herbs, 
and pieces of looking-glass, which he magnified 
and improved into rocks, trees, and water; and 
Sir Joshua solemnly discusses the wisdom of 
such a proceeding. "How far it may be use- 
ful in giving hints, " he says, 4t the professors 
of landscape can best determine/' but he does 
not recommend it, and is disposed to think, on 
the whole, the practice may be more likely to 
do harm than good! 



180 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

In the picture of Ceyx and Alcyone, by Wil- 
son, of whom Cunningham said that, with 
Gainsborough, he laid the foundation of our 
School of Landscape, the castle is said to have 
been painted from a pot of porter, and the rock 
from a Stilton cheese. There is indeed another 
version of the story, that the picture was sold 
for a pot of porter and cheese, which, however, 
does not give a higher idea of the appreciation 
of the art of landscape at that date. 

Until very recently the general feeling with 
reference to mountain scenery has been that 
expressed by Tacitus. * * Who would leave Asia 
or Africa or Italy to go to Germany, a shape- 
less and unformed country, a harsh sky, and 
melancholy aspect, unless indeed it was his 
native land?" 

It is amusing to read the opinion of Dr. 
Beattie, in a special treatise on Truth, Poetry, 
and Music, written at the close of last century, 
that "The Highlands of Scotland are in gen- 
eral a melancholy country. Long tracts of 
mountainous country, covered with dark heath, 
and often obscured by misty weather ; narrow 
valleys thinly inhabited, and bounded by prec- 
ipices resounding with the full of torrents ; a 
soil so rugged, and a climate so dreary, as in 
many parts to admit neither the amenities of 
pasturage, nor the labors of agriculture; the 
mournful dashing of waves along the firths 
and lakes; the portentous noises which every 
change of the wind is apt to raise in a lonely 
region, full of echoes, and rocks, and caverns ; 
the grotesque and ghastly appearance of such 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 181 

landscape by the light of the moon; objects 
like these diffuse a gloom over the fancy," etc. 

Even Goldsmith regarded the scenery of the 
Highlands as dismal and hideous. Johnson, 
we know, laid it down as an axiom that "the 
noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees 
is the high-road that leads him to England" — 
a saying which throws much doubt on his dis- 
tinction that the Giant's Causeway was "worth 
seeing but not worth going to see. ' ' 

Madame de Stael declared, that though she 
would go 500 leagues to meet a clever man, she 
would not care to open her window to see the 
Bay of Naples. 

Nor was the ancient absence of appreciation 
confined to scenery. Even Burke, speaking of 
Stonehenge, says, "Stonehenge, neither for 
disposition nor ornament, has anything admir- 
able/' 

Ugly scenery, however, may in some cases 
have an injurious effect on the human system. 
It has been ingeniously suggested that what 
really drove Don Quixote out of his mind was 
not the study of his books of chivalry, so much 
as the monotonous scenery of La Mancha. 

The love of landscape is not indeed due to 
Art alone. It has been the happy combination 
of art and science which has trained us to per- 
ceive the beauty which surrounds us. 

Art helps us to see, and "hundreds of people 
can talk for one who can think ; but thousands 
can think for one who can see. To see clearly 
is poetry, prophecy, and religion all in one. 
. . . Remembering always that there are two 



182 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

characters in which all greatness of Art consists 
— first, the earnest and intense seizing of nat- 
ural facts; then the ordering those facts by 
strength of human intellect, so as to make 
them, for all who look upon them, to the 
utmost serviceable, memorable, and beautiful. 
And thus great Art is nothing else than the 
type of strong and noble life ; for as the ignoble 
person, in his dealings with all that occurs in 
the world about him, first sees nothing clearly, 
looks nothing fairly in the face, and then 
allows himself to be swept away by the tramp- 
ling torrent and unescapable force of the things 
that he would not foresee and could not under- 
stand : so the noble person, looking the facts of 
the world full in the face, and fathoming them 
with deep faculty, then deals with them in 
unalarmed intelligence and unhurried strength, 
and becomes, with his human intellect and will, 
no unconscious nor insignificant agent in con- 
summating their good and restraining their 
evil." 

May we not also hope that in this respect also 
still further progress may be made, that beau- 
ties may be revealed, and pleasures may be in 
store for those who come after us, which we 
cannot appreciate, or at least can but faintly 
feel? 

Even now there is scarcely a cottage without 
something more or less successfully claiming 
to rank as Art, — a picture, a photograph, or a 
statuette ; and we may fairly hope that much 
as Art even now contributes to the happiness 
of life, it will do so even more effectively in 
+he future. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 183 



CHAPTER VI. 

POETRY. 

"And here the singer for his Art 
Not all in vain may plead ; 
The song that nerves a nation's heart 
Is in itself a deed. ' ' — Tennyson. 

After the disastrous defeat of the Athenians 
before Syracuse, Plutarch tells us that the Sicil- 
ians spared those who could repeat any of the 
poetry of Euripides. 

"Some there were," he says, "who owed 
their preservation to Euripides. Of all the 
Grecians, his was the muse with whom the 
Sicilians were most in love. From the strang- 
ers who landed in their island they gleaned 
every small specimen or portion of his works, 
and communicated it with pleasure to each 
other. It is said that upon this occasion a 
number of Athenians on their return home 
went to Euripides, and thanked him in the 
most grateful manner for their obligations to 
his pen; some having been enfranchised for 
teaching their masters what they remembered 
of his poems, and others having procured 
refreshments, when they were wandering 
about after the battle, by singing a few of his 
verses. " 

Nowadays we are none of us likely to owe 



184 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

our lives to Poetry in this sense, yet in another 
we many of us owe to it a similar debt. How 
often, when worn with overwork, sorrow, or 
anxiety, have we taken down Homer or Horace, 
Shakespeare or Milton, and felt the clouds 
gradually roll away, the jar of nerves subside, 
the consciousness of power replace physical 
exhaustion, and the darkness of despondency 
brighten once more into the light of life. 

"And yet Plato," says Jowett, "expels the 
poets from his Republic because they are 
allied to sense; because they stimulate the 
emotions; because they are thrice removed 
from the ideal truth." 

In that respect, as in some others, few would 
accept Plato's Republic as being an ideal Com- 
monwealth, and most would agree with Sir 
Philip Sidney that "if you cannot bear the 
planet-like music of poetry ... 1 must send 
you in the behalf of all poets, that while you 
live, you live in love, and never get favor for 
lacking skill of a sonnet; and when you die, 
your memory die from the earth, for want of 
an epitaph." 

Poetry has often been compared with paint- 
ing and sculpture. Simonides long ago said 
that Poetry is a speaking picture, and painting 
is mute Poetry. 

"Poetry," says Cousin, "is the first of the 
Arts because it best represents the infinite." 

And again, "Though the arts are in some 
respects isolated, yet there is one which seems 
to ' profit by the resources of all, and that is 
Poetry. With words, Poetry can paint and 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 185 

sculpture ; she can build edifices like an archi- 
tect; she unites, to some extent, melody and 
music. She is, so to say, the center in which 
all arts unite. ' ' 

A true poem is a gallery of pictures. 

It must, I think, be admitted that painting 
and sculpture can give us a clearer and more 
vivid idea of an object we have never seen than 
any description can convey. But when we 
have once seen it, then on the contrary there 
are many points which the poet brings before 
us, and which perhaps neither in the repre- 
sentation, nor even in nature, should we per- 
ceive for ourselves. Objects can be most viv- 
idly brought before us by the artist, actions 
by the poet ; space is the domain of Art, time 
of Poetry. 

Tako, for instance, as a typical instance, 
female beauty. How labored and how cold 
any description appears. The greatest poets 
recognize this; as, for instance, when Scott 
wishes us to realize the Lady of the Lake he 
does not attempt any description, but just 
mentions her attitude and then adds — 

"And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
Of finer form or lovelier face !" 

A great poet indeed must be inspired; he 
must possess an exquisite sense of beauty, and 
feelings deeper than those of most men, and 
yet well under his control. "The Milton of 
poetry is the man, in his own magnificent 
phrase, of devout prayer to that eternal spirit 



186 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

that can enrich with all utterance and knowl- 
edge, and sends out his seraphim with the hal- 
lowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the 
lips of whom he pleases. ' ' And if from one 
point of view Poetry brings home to us the 
immeasurable inequalities of different minds, 
on the other hand it teaches us that genius is 
no affair of rank or wealth. 

"I think of Chatterton, the marvelous boy, 
The sleepless soul that perish'd in his pride ; 
Of Burns, that walk'd in glory and in joy 
Behind his plow upon the mountain side." 

A man may be a poet and yet write no verse, 
but not if he writes bad or poor ones. 

'Mediocribus ease poetis 
Non homines, non Di, non concessere columnse." 

Second-rate poets, like second-rate writers 
generally, fade gradually into dreamland; but 
the great poets remain always. 

Poetry will not live unless it be alive, "that 
which comes from the head goes to the heart;" 
and Milton truly said that "he who would not 
be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter 
in laudable things, ought himself to be a true 
poem. " 

For "he who, having no touch of the Muses' 
madness in his soul, comes to the door and 
thinks he will get into the temple by the help 
of Art — he, I say, and his Poetry are not ad- 
mitted." 

But the work of the true poet is immortal. 

"For have not the verses of Homer con : 
tinued 2,500 years or more without the loss of 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 187 

a syllable or a letter, during which time 
infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have 
been decayed and demolished? It is not pos- 
sible to have the true pictures or statues of 
Cyrus, Alexander, Caesar, no, nor of the kings 
or great personages of much later years ; for 
the originals cannot last, and the copies cannot 
but lose of the life and truth. But the images 
of men's wits and knowledge remain in books, 
exempted from the wrong of time and capable 
of perpetual renovation. Neither are they 
fitly to be called images, because they gen- 
erate still and cast their seeds in the minds of 
others, provoking and causing infinite actions 
and opinions in succeeding ages ; so that if the 
invention of the ship was thought so noble, 
which carrieth riches and commodities from 
place to place, and consociateth the most remote 
regions in participation of their fruits, how 
much more are letters to be magnified, which, 
as ships pass through the vast seas of time 
and make ages so distant to participate of the 
wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the 
one of the other?" 

The poet requires many qualifications. 
44 Who has traced/' says Cousin, "the plan of 
this poem? Reason. Who has given it life 
and charm? Love. And who has guided 
reason and love? The Will. ' ' 

"All men have some imagination, but 
The Lover and the Poet 
Are of imagination all compact. 

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 



188 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 

And as imagination bodies forth 

And forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation and a name." 

Poetry is the fruit of genius ; but it cannot 
be produced without labor. Moore, one of the 
airiest of poets, tells us that he was a slow and 
painstaking workman. 

The works of our greatest Poets are all 
episodes in that one great poem which the 
genius of man has created since the commence- 
ment of human history. 

A distinguished mathematician is said once 
to have inquired what was proved by Milton in 
his Paradise Lost ; and there are no doubt still 
some who ask themselves, even if they shrink 
from putting the question to others, whether 
Poetry is of any use, just as if to give pleasure 
were not useful in itself. No true Utilitarian, 
however, would feel this doubt, since the 
greatest happiness of the greatest number is 
the rule of his philosophy. 

"We must not estimate the works of genius 
merely with reference to the pleasure they 
afford, even when pleasure was their principal 
object. We must also regard the intelligence 
which they presuppose and exercise. " 

Thoroughly to enjoy Poetry we must not so 
limit ourselves, but must rise to a higher 
ideal. 

"Yes; constantly in reading poetry, a sense 
for the best, the really excellent, and of the 
strength and joy to be drawn from it, should 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 189 

be present in our minds, and should govern 
our estimate of what we read. " 

Cicero, in his oration for Archias, well asked, 
"Has not this man then a right to my love, to 
my admiration, to all the means which I can 
employ in his defense? For we are instructed 
by all the greatest and most learned of man- 
kind, that education, precepts, and practice, 
can in every other branch of learning produce 
excellence. But a poet is formed by the hand 
of nature ; he is aroused by mental vigor, and 
'inspired by what we may call the spirit of 
divinity itself. Therefore our Ennius has a 
right to give to poets the epithet of Holy, 
because they are, as it were, lent to mankind 
by the indulgent beauty of the gods. ' ' 

"Poetry," says Shelley, "awakens and en- 
larges the mind itself by rendering it the recep- 
tacle of a thousand unapprehended combina- 
tions of thought. Poetry lifts the veil from 
the hidden beauty of the world, and makes 
familiar objects be as if they were not famil- 
iar; it produces all that it represents, and the 
impersonations clothed in its Elysian light 
stand thenceforward in the minds of those who 
have once contemplated them, as memorials 
of that gentle and exalted content which ex- 
tends itself over all thoughts and actions with 
which it co-exists." 

And again, "All high Poetry is infinite; it 
is as the first acorn, which contained all oaks 
potentially. Veil after veil may be undrawn, 
and the inmost naked beauty of the meaning 
never exposed. A great poejn is a fountain 



190 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

forever overflowing with the waters of wisdom 
and delight." 

Or, as he has expressed himself in his Ode 
to a Skylark : 

"Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest 
Like a cloud of fire ; 
The blue deep thou wingest, 
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. 

"Like a poet hidden 

In the light of thought, 
Singing hymns unbidden, 
Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. 

"Like a glow-worm golden 
In a dell of dew 
Scattering unbeholden 
Its aerial hue 
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the 
view. ' ' 

We speak now of the poet as the Maker or 
Creator; the origin of the word "bard" seems 
doubtful. 

The Hebrew swell called their poets * * Seers, ' ' 
for they not only perceive more than others, 
but also help other men to see much which 
would otherwise be lost to us. 

Poetry lifts the veil from the beauty of the 
world which would otherwise be hidden, and 
throws over the most familiar objects the glow 
and halo of imagination. The man who has 
a love for Poetry can scarcely fail to derive 
intense pleasure from Nature, which to those 
who love it is all "beauty to the eye and music 
to the ear. " 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 191 

"Yet Nature never set forth the earth in so 
rich tapestry as divers poets have done; 
neither with so pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, 
sweet-smelling flowers, nor whatsoever else 
may make the too-much loved earth more 
lovely/' 

In the smokiest city the poet will transport 
us, as if by enchantment, to the fresh air 
and bright sun, to the murmur of woods and 
leaves and water, to the ripple of waves upon 
sand, and enable us, as in some delightful 
dream, to cast off the cares and troubles of 
life. 

The poet, indeed, must have more true 
knowledge, not only of human nature, but of 
all Nature, than other men are gifted with. 

Crabbe Robinson tells us that when a 
stranger once asked permission to see Words- 
worth's study, the maid said, "This is master's 
Library, but he studies in the fields." No 
wonder then that Nature has been said to 
return the poet's love. 

"Call it not vain;— they do not err 
Who say that, when the poet dies, 
Mute Nature mourns her worshiper, 
And celebrates his obsequies." 

Swinburne says of Blake, and I feel entirely 
with him, though in my case the application 
would have been different, that "The sweet- 
ness of sky and leaf, of grass and water — the 
bright light life of bird, child, and beast — is, 
so to speak, kept fresh by some graver sense 
of faithful and mysterious lovd, explained and 



192 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

vivified by a conscience and purpose in the 
artist's hand and mind. Such a fiery outbreak 
of spring, such an insurrection of fierce floral 
life and radiant riot of childish power and 
pleasure, no poet or painter ever gave before ; 
such luster of green leaves and flushed limbs, 
kindled cloud and fervent fleece, was never 
wrought into speech or shape. " 

To appreciate Poetry we must not merely 
glance at it, or rush through it, or read it in 
order to talk or write about it. One must com- 
pose one's self into the right frame of mind. 
Of course for one's own sake one will read 
Poetry in times of agitation, sorrow, or anx- 
iety, but that is another matter. 

The inestimable treasures of Poetry again 
are open to all of us. The best books are in- 
deed the cheapest. For the price of a little 
beer, a little tobacco, we can buy Shakespeare 
or Milton — or indeed almost as many books as 
a man can read with profit in a year. 

Nor in considering the advantage of Poetry 
to man, must we limit ourselves to its past or 
present influence. The future of Poetry, says 
Mr. Matthew Arnold, and no one was more 
qualified to speak, "The future of Poetry is 
immense, because in Poetry, where it is worthy 
of its high destinies, our race, as time goes 
on, will find an ever surer and surer stay. But 
for Poetry the idea is everything; the rest is 
a world of illusion, of divine illusion. Poetry 
attaches its emotion to the idea; the idea is 
the fact. The strongest part of our religion 
to-day is its unconscious Poetry. We should 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 193 

conceive of Poetry worthily, and more highly 
than it has been the custom to conceive of it. 
We should conceive of it as capable of higher 
uses, and called to higher destinies than those 
which in general men have assigned to it hith- 
erto. 

Poetry has been well called the record "of 
the best and happiest moments of the happiest 
and best minds;" it is the light of life, the 
very "image of life expressed in its eternal 
truth ;" it immortalizes all that is best and most 
beautiful in the world; "it purges from our 
inward sight the film of familiarity which ob- 
scures from us the wonder of our being ;" "it 
is the center and circumference of knowledge ;" 
and poets are "mirrors of the gigantic shad- 
ows which futurity casts upon the present." 

Poetry, in effect, lengthens life; it creates 
for us time, if time be realized as the succes- 
sion of ideas and not of minutes; it is the 
"breath and finer spirit of all knowledge"; it 
is bound neither by time nor space, but lives 
in the spirit of man. What greater praise can 
be given than the saying that life should be 
Poetry put into action. 



13 Pleasures 



194 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER VII. 

MUSIC. 

11 Music is a moral law. It gives a soul to the uni- 
verse, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, a 
charm to sadness, gayety and life to everything. It is 
the essence of order, and leads to all that is good, just 
and beautiful of which it is the invisible, but neverthe- 
less dazzling, passionate, and eternal form." — Plato, 

Music is in one sense far more ancient than 
man, and the voice was from the very com- 
mencement of human existence a source of 
melody: but so far as musical instruments 
are concerned, it is probable that percussion 
came first, then wind instruments, and lastly, 
those with strings : first the Drum, then the 
Flute, and thirdly, the Lyre. The early his- 
tory of music, is however, unfortunately 
wrapped in most obscurity. The use of letters 
long preceded the invention of notes, and tra- 
dition in such a matter can tell us but little. 

The contest between Marsyas and Apollo is 
supposed by some to typify the struggle be- 
tween the Flute and the Lyre ; Marsyas repre- 
senting the archaic Flute, Apollo the cham- 
pion of the Lyre. The latter of course was 
victorious: it sets the voice free, and the 
sound 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 195 

"Of music that is born of human breath 
Comes straighter to the soul than any strain 
The hand alone can make." 

Various myths have grown up to explain the 
origin of Music. One Greek tradition was to 
the effect Grasshoppers were human beings 
themselves in a world before the Muses ; that 
when the Muses came, being ravished with 
delight, they sang and sang and forgot to eat, 
until "they died of hunger for the love of song. 
And they carry to heaven the report of those 
who honor them on earth. ' ' 

The old writers and commentators tell us 
that Pythagoras, "as he was one day meditat- 
ing on the want of some rule to guide the ear, 
analogous to what had been used to help the 
other senses, chanced to pass by a black- 
smith's shop, and observing that the hammers, 
which were four in number, sounded very 
harmoniously, he had them weighed, and 
found them to be in proportion of six, eight, 
nine, and twelve. Upon this he suspended 
four strings of equal length and thickness, etc., 
fastened weights in the above-mentioned pro- 
portions to each of them respectively, and 
found that they gave the same sounds that the 
hammers had done; viz.: the fourth, fifth, 
and octave to the gravest tone. " However this 
may be, it would appear that the lyre had at 
first four strings only; Terpander is said to 
have given it three more, and an eighth was 
subsequently added. 

We have unfortunately no specimens of 
Greek or Roman, or even of Early Christian 



196 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

music. The Chinese indicated the notes by 
words or their initials. The lowest was termed 
"Koung, " or the Emperor, as being the 
Foundation on which all were supported ; the 
second was Tschang, the Prime Minister; 
the third, the Subject: the fourth, Public Bus- 
iness; the fifth, the Mirror of Heaven. The 
Greeks also had a name for each note. The 
so-called Gregorian notes were not invented 
until six hundred years after Gregory's death. 
The Monastery of St. Gall possesses a copy of 
Gregory's Antiphonary, made about the year 
780 by a chorister who was sent from Rome to 
Charlemagne to reform the Northern music, 
and in this the notes are indicated by 
"pneumss," from which our notes were grad- 
ually developed, and first arranged along one 
line, to which others were gradually added. 
But I must not enlarge on this interesting 
subject. 

In the matter of music Englishmen have 
certainly deserved well of the world. Even 
as long ago as 1185, Giraldus Cambrensis, 
Bishop of St. David's, says: "The Britons do 
not sing their tunes in unison like the inhabi- 
tants of other countries, but in different parts. 
So that when a company of singers meet to 
sing, as is usual in this country, as many 
different parts are heard as there are singers." 

The most ancient known piece of music for 
several voices is an English four men's song, 
"Summer is a-coming in," which is considered 
to be at least as early as 1240, and is now in 
the British Museum. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 19? 

The Venetian Ambassador in the time of 
Henry VIII. said of our English Church 
music: "The mass was sung by His Majesty's 
choristers, whose voices are more heavenly 
than human ; they did not chant like men, but 
like angels. ' ' 

Speaking of Purcell's anthem, "Be merciful 
to me, O God/' Burney says it is "throughout 
admirable. Indeed, to my conception there 
is no better music existing of the kind than 
the opening of this anthem, in which the 
verse * I will praise God' and the last move- 
ment in C natural are, in melody, harmony, 
and modulation, truly divine music. " 

Dr. Burney says that Purcell was "as much 
the pride of an Englishman in music as 
Shakespeare in productions of the stage, Mil- 
ton in epic poetry, Locke in metaphysics, or 
Sir Isaac Newton in philosophy and mathe- 
matics;" and yet Purcell's music is unfortun- 
ately but little known to us now, as Macfarren 
says, "to our great loss." 

The authors of some of the loveliest music, 
and even in some cases that of comparatively 
recent times, are unknown to us. This is the 
case, for instance, with the exquisite song, 
"Drink to me only with thine eyes," the words 
of which were taken by Jonson from Philos- 
tratus, and which has been considered as the 
most beautiful of all "people's songs." 

The music of "God save the Queen" has been 
adopted in more than half a dozen other 
countries, and yet the authorship is a matter 
of doubt, being attributed by some to Dr. 



198 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

John Bull, by others to Carey. It was appar- 
ently first sung in a tavern in Cornhill. 

Both the music and words of "O death, rock 
me to sleep" are said to be by Anne Boleyn; 
" Stay, Corydon" and " Sweet Honey-sucking 
Bees" by Wildye, "the first of madrigal writ- 
ers." "Rule, Britannia," was composed by 
Arne, and originally formed part of his Masque 
of Alfred, first performed in 1740 at Cliefden, 
near Maidenhead. To Arne we are also in- 
debted for the music of " Where the Bee sucks, 
there lurk I." "The Vicar of Bray" is set to 
a tune originally known as "A Country 
Garden." "Come unto these yellow sands" 
we owe to Purcell; "Sigh no more, Ladies," 
to Stevens; "Home, Sweet Home" to Bishop. 

There is a curious melancholy in national 
music, which is generally in the minor key; 
indeed, this holds good with the music of sav- 
age races generally. They appear, moreover, 
to have no love songs. 

Herodotus tells us that during the whole 
time he was in Egypt he only heard one song, 
and that was a sad one. My own experience 
there was the same. Some tendency to mel- 
ancholy seems indeed inherent in music, and 
Jessica is not alone in the feeling, 

"I am never merry when I hear sweet music." 

The epitaphs on Musicians have been in 
some cases very well expressed. Such, for 
instance, is the following: 

"Phillips, whose touch harmonious could remove 
The pangs of guilty power and hapless love, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 199 

Rest here, distressed by poverty no more ; 
Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; 
Sleep, undisturbed, within this peaceful shrine, 
Till angels wake thee with a note like thine!" 

Still more so that on Purcell, whose prema- 
ture death was so irreparable a loss to Eng- 
lish music — 

"Here lies Henry Purcell, who left this life 
and is gone that to blessed place, where only 
his harmony can be exceeded.", 

The histories of Music contain many curious 
anecdotes as to the circumstances under which 
different works have been composed. 

Rossini tells us that he wrote the overture 
to the "Gazza Ladra" on the very, day of the 
first performance, in the upper loft of the La 
Scala, where he had been confined by the 
manager under the guard of four scene- 
shifters, who threw the text out of the window 
to copyists bit by bit as it was composed. Tar- 
tini is said to have composed "II trillo del 
Diavolo, * * considered to be his best work, in a 
dream. Rossini, speaking of the chorus in 
G minor in his "Dal tuo stellato soglio, " tells 
us: "While I was writing the chorus in G 
minor I suddenly dipped my pen into a medi- 
cine bottle instead of the ink. I made a blot, 
and when I dried this with the sand it took 
the form of a natural, which instantly gave me 
the idea of the effect the change from G minor 
to G major would make, and to this blot is all 
the effect, if any, due." But these, of course, 
are exceptional cases. 

There are other forms of Music, which, 



200 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

though not strictly entitled to the name, are 
yet capable of giving intense pleasure. To the 
sportsman, what Music can excel that of the 
hounds themselves! The cawing of rooks has 
been often quoted as a sound which has no 
actual beauty of its own, and yet which is 
delightful from its associations. 

There is, however, a true Music of Nature, 
— the song of birds, the whisper of leaves, the 
ripple of waters upon a sandy shore, the wail 
of wind or sea. 

There was also an ancient impression that 
the Heavenly bodies give out music as well as 
light: the Music of the Spheres is proverbial. 

"There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest 
But in his motion like an angel sings. 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims ; 
Such harmony is in immortal souls 
But while this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." 

Music, indeed, often seems as if it scarcely 
belonged to this material universe, but was 

"A tone 
Of some world far from ours, 
Where music, and moonlight, and feeling are one." 

There is Music in speech as well as in song. 
Not merely in the voice of those we love, and 
the charm of association, but in actual melo- 
dy; as Milton says, 

"The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear 
So charming left his voice, that he awhile 
Thought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 201 

It is remarkable that more pains are not 
taken with the voice in conversation as well 
as in singing, for 

"What plea so tainted and corrupt 
But being seasoned with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil." 

It may be true as a general rule that 

The man that hath no Music in himself 

Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds 

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;" 

but there are some notable exceptions. Dr. 
Johnson had no love of music. On one occa- 
sion, hearing that a certain piece of music was 
very difficult, he expressed his regret that it 
was not impossible. 

Poets, as might have been expected, have 
sung most sweetly in praise of song. They 
have, moreover, done so from the most oppo- 
site points of view. 

Milton invokes it as a luxury — 

"And ever against eating cares 
Lap me in soft, Lydian airs ; 
Married to immortal verse 
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, 
In notes with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out ; 
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, 
The melting voice through mazes running ; 
Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony." 

Sometimes as a temptation : so Spenser says 
of Phaedria, 

14 Pleasures 



202 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"And she, more sweet than any bird on bough 
Would oftentimes amongst them bear apart, 
And strive to passe (as she could well enough) 
Their native musicke by her skillful art. 

Or as an element of pure happiness — 

"There is in souls a sympathy with sounds; 
And as the mind is pitched, the ear is pleased 
With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave ; 
Some chord in unison with what we hear 
Is touched within us, and the heart replies. 
How soft the music of those village bells, 
Falling at intervals upon the ear 
In cadence sweet, now dying all away, 
Now pealing loud again and louder still 
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on." 

As touching the human heart — 

"The soul of music slumbers in the shell 
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell, 
And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly — pour 
A thousand melodies unheard before." 

As an education — 

" I have sent books and music there, and all 
Those instruments with which high spirits call 
The future from its cradle, and the past 
Out of its grave, and make the present last 
In thoughts and joys which sleep, but cannot die, 
Folded within their own eternity." 

As an aid to religion — 

"As from the power of sacred lays 
The spheres began to move, 
And sung the great Creator's praise 

To all the blessed above. 
So when the last and dreadful hour 
This crumbling pageant shall devour, 
The trumpet shall be heard on high, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 2U3 

The dead shall live, the living die, 
And music shall untune the sky." 

Or again — 

•'Hark how it falls! and now it steals along, 

Like distant bells upon the lake at eve, 
When all is still ; and now it grows more strong 

As when the choral train their dirges weave 
Mellow and many voiced ; where every close 

O'er the old minster roof, in echoing waves reflows. 
Oh ! I am rapt aloft. My spirit soars 

Beyond the skies, and leaves the stars behind ; 
Lo ! angels lead me to the happy shores, 

And floating paeans fill the buoyant wind. 
Farewell! base earth, farewell! my soul is freed." 

The power of Music to sway the feelings of 
Man has never been more cleverly portrayed 
than by Dryden in "The Feast of Alexander," 
though the circumstances of the case precluded 
any reference to the influence of Music in its 
noblest aspects. 

Poets have always attributed to Music, — and 
who would wish to deny it, — a power even 
over the inanimate forces of Nature. Shakes- 
peare accounts for shooting stars by the 
attraction of Music: 

"The rude sea grew civil at her song, 
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres 
To hear the Sea-maid's Music." 

Prose writers have also been inspired by 
Music to their highest eloquence. "Music," 
says Plato, "is a moral law. It gives a soul to 
the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the 
imagination, a charm to sadness, gayety and 
life to everything. It is the - essence of order, 



204 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and leads to all that is good, just, and beautiful, 
of which it is the invisible, but nevertheless 
dazzling, passionate and eternal form. " 
" Music," said Luther, "is a fair and glorious 
gift from God. I would not for the world 
renounce my humble share in music." 
44 Music," said Halevy, "is an art that God has 
given us, in which the voices of all nations 
may unite their prayers in one harmonious 
rhythm." Or Carlyle, "Music is a kind of 
inarticulate, unfathomable speech, which leads 
us to the edge of the infinite, and lets us for 
moments gaze into it." 

Let me also quote Helmholtz, one of the 
profoundest exponents of modern science. 
"Just as in the rolling ocean, this movement, 
rhythmically repeated, and yet ever- varying, 
rivets our attention and hurries us along. But 
whereas in the sea blind physical forces alone 
are at work, and hence the final impression on 
the spectator's mind is nothing but solitude — 
in a musical work of art the movement follows 
the outflow of the artist's own emotions. 
Now gently gliding, now gracefully leaping, 
now violently stirred, penetrated, or labori- 
ously contending with the natural expression 
of passion, the stream of sound, in primitive 
vivacity, bears over into the hearer's soul 
unimagined moods which the artist has over- 
heard from his own, and finally raises him up 
to that repose of everlasting beauty of which 
God has allowed but few of his elect favorites 
to be the heralds. ' ' 

"There are but seven notes in the scale: 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 205 

make them fourteen, " say Newman, "yet what 
a slender outfit for so vast an enterprise! 
What science brings so much out of so little? 
Out of what poor elements does some great 
master in it create his new world ! Shall we 
say that all this exuberant inventiveness is a 
mere ingenuity or trick of art, like some game 
of fashion of the day, without reality, without 
meaning? ... Is it possible that that inex- 
haustible evolution and disposition of notes, so 
rich yet so simple, so intricate yet so regulated, 
so various yet so majestic, should be a mere 
sound, which is gone and perishes? Can it be 
that those mysterious stirrings of the heart, 
and keen emotions, and strange yearnings after 
we know not what, and awful impressions from 
we know not whence, should be wrought in us 
by what is unsubstantial, and comes and goes, 
and begins and ends in itself? it is not so; it 
cannot be. No ; they have escaped from some 
higher sphere; they are the outpourings of 
eternal harmony in the medium of created 
sound; they are echoes from our Home; they 
are the voice of Angels, or the Magnificat of 
Saints, or the living laws of Divine Govern- 
ance, or the Divine Attributes; something are 
they besides themselves, which we cannot 
compass, which we cannot utter, though mortal! 
man, and he perhaps not otherwise distin- 
guished above his fellows, has the gift of elic-^ 
iting them. " 

Poetry and Music unite in song. From the 
earliest ages song has been the sweet compan- 
ion of labor. The rude chant of the boatman 



206 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

floats upon the water, the shepherd sings upon 
the hill, the milkmaid in the dairy, the plow- 
man at the plow. Every trade, every occupa- 
tion, every act and scene of life, has long had 
its own especial music. The bride went to her 
marriage, the laborer to his work, the old man 
to his last long rest, each with appropriate and 
immemorial music. 

Music has been truly described as the mother 
of sympathy, the handmaid of Religion, and 
will never exercise its full effect, as the 
Emperor Charles VI. said to Farinelli, unless 
it aims not merely to charm the ear, but to 
touch the heart. 

There are many who consider that our life 
at present is peculiarly prosaic and mercenary. 
I greatly doubt whether that be the case, but 
if so our need for music is all the more imper- 
ative. 

Much as Music has already done for man we 
may hope even more from it in the future. 

It is, moreover, a joy for all. To appreciate 
Science or Art requires some training, and no 
doubt the cultivated ear will more and more 
appreciate the beauties of Music; but though 
there are exceptional individuals, and even 
races, almost devoid of any love of Music, still 
they are happily but rare. 

Good Music, moreover, does not necessarily 
involve any considerable outlay; it is even 
now no mere luxury of the rich, and we may 
hope that as time goes on, it will become more 
and more the comfort and solace of the poor. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 207 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 

4 'Speak to the earth and it shall teach thee/' 

-Job. 

"And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 

— Shakespeare. 

We are told in the first chapter of Genesis 
that at the close of the sixth day, "God saw 
everything that he had made, and behold, it 
was very good. " Not merely good, but very 
good. Yet how few of us appreciate the 
beautiful world in which we live ! 

In preceding chapters I have incidentally, 
though only incidentally, referred to the 
, Beauties of Nature ; but any attempt, however 
imperfect, to sketch the blessings of life must 
contain some special reference to this lovely 
world itself, which the Greeks happily called 
beauty. 

Hamerton, in his charming work on Land- 
scape, says, "There are, I believe, four new 
experiences for which no description ever 
adequately prepares us, the first sight of the 
sea, the first journey in the desert, the sight of 
flowing molten lava, and a walk on a great 
glacier. We feel in each case that the strange 



208 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

thing is pure nature, as much nature as a 
familiar English moor, yet so extraordinary 
that we might be in another planet. ' ' But it 
would, I think, be easier to enumerate the 
Wonders of Nature for which description can 
prepare us, than those which are altogether 
beyond the power of language. 

Many of us, however, walk through the world 
like ghosts, as if we were in it, but not of it. 
We have "eyes and see not, ears and hear 
not." To look is much less easy than to over- 
look, and to be able to see what we do see, is 
a great gift. Ruskin maintains that "The 
greatest thing a human soul ever does in this 
world is to see something, and tell what it saw 
in a plain way/' I do not suppose that his 
eyes are better than ours, but how much more 
he sees with them ! 

We must look before we can expect to see. 
"To the attentive eye," says Emerson, "each 
moment of the year has its own beauty; and in 
the same field it beholds every hour a picture 
that was never seen before, and shall never be 
seen again. The heavens change every 
moment and reflect their glory or gloom on the 
plains beneath. " 

The love of Nature is a great gift, and if it 
is frozen or crushed out, the character can 
hardly fail to suffer from the loss. I will not, 
indeed, say that a person who does not love 
Nature is necessarily bad; or that one who 
does, is necessarily good; but it is to most 
minds a great help. Many, as Miss Cobb says, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 209 

enter the Temple through the gate called 
Beautiful. 

There are doubtless some to whom none of 
the beautiful wonders of Nature — neither the 
glories of the rising or the setting sun ; the 
magnificent spectacle of the boundless ocean, 
sometimes so grand in its peaceful tranquil- 
lity, at others so majestic in its mighty power;, 
the forests agitated by the storm, or alive with 
the song of birds ; nor the glaciers and moun- 
tains — there are doubtless some whom none of 
these magnificent spectacles can move, whom 
44 all the glories of heaven and earth may pass 
in daily succession without touching their 
hearts or elevating their minds. ' ' 

Such men are indeed pitiable. But, happily,, 
they are exceptions. If we can none of us as 
yet fully appreciate the beauties of Nature, we 
are beginning to do so more and more. 

For most of us the early summer has a spe- 
cial charm. The very life is luxury. The air 
is full of scent, and sound, and sunshine, of the 
song of birds and the murmur of insects ; the 
meadows gleam with golden buttercups, it 
almost seems as if one could see the grass grow 
and the buds open; the bees hum for very joy, 
and the air is full of a thousand scents, above 
all perhaps that of new-mown hay. 

The exquisite beauty and delight of a fine 
summer day in the country has never perhaps 
been more truly, and therefore more beauti- 
fully, described than by Jefferies in his "Page- 
ant of Summer." 44 I linger," he says, 44 in 
the midst of the long grass, .the luxury of the 



210 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

leaves, and the song in the very air. I seem 
as if I could feel all the glowing life the sun- 
shine gives and the south wind calls to being. 
The endless grass, the endless leaves, the 
immense strength of the oak expanding, the 
unalloyed joy of finch and blackbird ; from all 
of them I receive a little. . . In the black 
bird's melody one note is mine; in the dance 
of the leaf shadows the formed maze is for me, 
though the motion is theirs; the flowers with 
a thousand faces have collected the kisses of 
the morning. Feeling with them, I receive 
some, at least, of their fullness of life. Never 
could I have enough ; never stay long enough. 
. . . The hours when the mind is absorbed by 
beauty are the only hours when we really live 
so that the longer we can stay among these 
things so much the more is snatched from inev- 
itable Time. . . . These are the only hours 
that are not wasted — these hours that absorb 
the soul and fill it with beauty. This is real 
life, and all else is illusion, or mere endurance. 
To be beautiful and to be calm, without mental 
fear, is the ideal of Nature. If I cannot 
achieve it, at least I can think it. " 

This chapter is already so long that I cannot 
touch on the contrast and variety of the sea- 
sons, each with its own special charm and 
interest, as 

"The daughters of the year 
Dance into light and die into the shade." 

Our countrymen derive great pleasure from 
the animal kingdom, in hunting, shooting, and 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 211 

fishing, thus obtaining fresh air and exercise, 
and being led into much varied and beautiful 
scenery. Still it will probably ere long be 
recognized that even from a purely selfish 
point of view, killing animals is not the way to 
get the greatest enjoyment from them. How 
much more interesting would every walk in the 
country be, if Man would but treat other ani- 
mals with kindness, so that they might 
approach us without fear, and we might have 
the constant pleasure of watching their win- 
ning ways. Their origin and history, structure 
and habits, senses and intelligence, offer an 
endless field of interest and wonder. . 

The richness of life is wonderful. Any one 
who will sit down quietly on the grass and 
watch a little will be, indeed, surprised at the 
number and variety of living beings, every one 
with a special history of its own, every one 
offering endless problems of great interest. 

"If, indeed, thy heart were right, then would 
every creature be to thee a mirror of life, and 
a book of holy doctrine. ' ' 

The study of Natural History has the special 
advantage of carrying us into the country and 
the open air. 

Not but what towns are beautiful, too. 
They teem with human interest and historical 
associations. 

Wordsworth was an intense lover of nature ; 
yet does he not tell us, in lines which every 
Londoner will appreciate, that he knew noth- 
ing in nature more fair, no calm more deep, 
than the city of London at early dawn? 



212 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"Earth has not anything to show more fair; 
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by 
A sight so touching in its majesty ; 
This City now doth, like a garment, wear 
The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare, 
Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and temples lie 
Open unto the fields, and to the sky ; 
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 
Never did sun more beautifully steep 
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill ; 
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! 
The river glideth at its own sweet will ; 
Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ; 
And all that mighty heart is lying still !'* 

Milton also described London as 

,4 Too blest abode, no loveliness we see 
In all the earth, but it abounds in thee." 

But after being some time in a great city, one 
feels a longing for the country. 

"The meanest floweret of the vale, 
The simplest note that swells the gale* 
The common sun, the air, the skies* 
To him are opening paradise." 

Here Gray justly places flowers in the first 
place, for when in any great town we think of 
the country, flowers seem first to suggest them- 
selves. 

44 Flowers," says Ruskin, 4< seem intended for 
the solace of ordinary humanity. Children 
love them ; quiet, tender, contented, ordinary 
people love them as they grow ; luxurious and 
disorderly people rejoice in them gathered. 
They are the cottager's treasure; and in the 
crowded town, mark, as with a little broken 
fragment of rainbow, the windows of the work* 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 213 

•ers in whose heart rests the covenant of 
peace. " But in the crowded street, or even in 
the formal garden, flowers always seem to me 
at least, as if they were pining for the freedom 
of the woods and fields, where they can live 
and grow as they please. 

There are flowers for almost all seasons and 
all places. Flowers for spring, summer, and 
autumn, while even in the very depth of winter 
here and there one makes its appearance. 
There are flowers of the fields and woods and 
liedgerows, of the sea- shore and the lake's 
margin, of the mountain-side up to the very 
edge of the eternal snow. 

And what an infinite variety they present. 

"Daffodils, 
That come before the swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim, 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
Or Cytherca's breath ; pale primroses, 
That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady 
Most incident to maids ; bold oxslips and 
The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds, 
The flower-de-luce being one." 

Nor are they mere delights to the eye ; they 
are full of mystery and suggestions. They 
almost seem like enchanted princesses waiting 
for some princely deliverer. Wordsworth tells 
us that 

"To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." 

Every color again, every variety of form, has 
some purpose and explanation. 



214 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

And yet, lovely as Flowers are, Leaves add 
even more to the Beauty of Nature. Trees in 
our northern latitudes seldom own large flow- 
ers; and though of course there are notable 
exceptions, such as the Horse-chestnut, still, 
even in these cases the flowers live only a few 
days, while the leaves last for months. Every 
tree, indeed, is a picture in itself: The gnarled 
and rugged Oak, the symbol and source of our 
navy, sacred to the memory of the Druids, the 
type of strength, the sovereign of British trees; 
the Chestnut, with its beautiful, tapering, and 
rich green, glossy leaves, its delicious fruit, 
and to the durability of which we owe the. 
grand and historic roof of Westminster Abbey. 

The Birch is the queen of trees, with her 
feathery foliage, scarcely visible in spring but 
turning to leaves of gold in autumn ; the pend- 
ulous twigs tinged with purple, and silver 
stems so brilliantly marked with black and 
white. 

The Elm forms grand masses of foliage 
which turn a beautiful golden yellow in 
autumn ; and the Black Poplar with its per- 
pendicular leaves, rustling and trembling with 
every breath of wind, towers over most other 
forest trees. 

The Beech enlivens the country by its tender 
green in spring, rich green in summer, and 
glorious gold and orange in autumn, set off by 
the graceful gray stems; and has, moreover, 
such a wealth of leaves that in autumn there 
are enough not only to clothe the tree itself 
but to cover the grass underneath. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 215 

If the Beech owes much to its delicate gray 
stem, even more beautiful is the reddish crim- 
son of the Scotch Pines, in such charming con- 
trast with the rich green of the foliage, by 
which it is shown off rather than hidden ; and, 
with the green spires of the Firs, they keep the 
woods warm in winter. 

Nor must I overlook the smaller trees: the 
Yew with its thick green foliage; the wild 
Guelder-rose, which lights up the woods in 
autumn with translucent glossy berries and 
many-tinted leaves; or the Bryonies, the Briar, 
the Traveler's Joy, and many another plant, 
even humbler perhaps, and yet each with some 
exquisite beauty and grace of its own, so that 
we must all have sometimes felt our hearts 
overflowing with gladness and gratitude, as if 
the woods were full of music — as if 

"The woods were filled so full with song 
There seemed no room for sense of wrong." 

On the whole, no doubt, woodlands are less 
beautiful in the winter; yet even then the 
delicate tracery of the branches, which cannot 
be so well seen when they are clothed with 
leaves, has a special beauty of its own ; while 
every now and then hoar frost or snow settles 
like silver on every branch and twig, lighting 
up the forest as if by enchantment in prep- 
aration for some fairy festival. 

I feel with Jeffries that "by day or by night, 
summer or winter, beneath trees the heart 
feels nearer to that depth of life which the 
far sky means. The rest of spirit found only 



"216 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

in beauty, ideal and pure, comes there because 
the distance seems within touch of thought. " 

The general effect of forests in tropical 
regions must be very different from that of 
those in our latitudes. Kingsley describes it 
as one of helplessness, confusion, awe, all 
but terror. The trunks are very lofty and 
straight, and rising to a great height without 
a branch, so that the wood seems at first com- 
paratively open. In Brazilian forests, for in- 
stance, the trees struggle upward, and the 
foliage forms an unbroken canoply, perhaps a 
hundred feet overhead. Here, indeed, high up 
in the air is the real life of the forest. Every- 
thing seems to climb to the light. The 
quadrupeds climb, birds climb, reptiles climb, 
and the variety of climbing plants is far 
greater than anything to which we are accus- 
tomed. 

Many savage nations worship trees, and I 
really think my first feeling would be one of 
delight and interest rather than of surprise, 
if some day when I am alone in a wood one 
of the trees were to speak to me. Even by 
day there is something mysterious in a forest, 
and this is much more the case at night. 

With wood, water seems to be naturally asso- 
ciated. Without water no landscape is com- 
plete, while overhead the clouds add beauty 
to the heavens themselves. The spring and 
the rivulet, the brook, the river, and the lake, 
seem to give life to Nature, and were indeed 
regarded by our ancestors as living entries 
themselves. Water is beautiful in the morning 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 21T 

mist, in the broad lake, in the glancing stream 
or the river pool, in the wide ocean, beautiful 
in all its varied moods. Water nourishes 
vegetation ; it clothes the low-lands with green 
and the mountains with snow. It sculptures 
the rocks and excavates the valleys, in most 
cases acting mainly through the soft rain, 
though our harder rocks are still grooved by 
the ice-chisel of bygone ages. 

The refreshing power of water upon the 
earth is scarcely greater than that which it ex- 
ercises on the mind of man. After a long 
spell of work, how delightful it is to sit by a 
lake or river, or on the sea-shore, and enjoy 

"A little murmur in mine ear, 
A little ripple at my feet." 

Every Englishman loves the sight of the Sea. 
We feel that it is to us a second home. It 
seems to vivify the very atmosphere, so that Sea 
air is proverbial as a tonic, and makes the 
blood dance in our veins. The Ocean gives an 
impression of freedom and grandeur more in- 
tense perhaps even than the aspect of the 
heavens themselves. A poor woman from 
Manchester, on being taken to the sea-side, is 
said to have expressed her delight on seeing 
for the first time something of which there was 
enough for everybody. The sea-coast is 
always interesting. When we think of the 
cliff sections with their histories of bygone 
ages; the shore itself teeming with sea-weeds 
and animals, waiting for the return of the 



218 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

tide, or thrown up from deeper water by the 
waves; the weird cries of sea-birds; the de- 
lightful feeling that with every breath we are 
laying in a store of fresh life, and health, and 
energy, it is impossible to overestimate all we 
owe to the sea. 

It is, moreover, always changing. We went 
for our holiday this year to Lyme Regis. Let 
me attempt to describe the changes in the view 
from our windows during a single day. Our 
sitting-room opened on to a little lawn, beyond 
which the ground drops suddenly to the sea, 
while over about two miles of water were the 
hills of the Dorsetshire coast — Golden Cap, 
with its bright crest of yellow sand, and the 
dark blue Lias Cliff of Black Ven. When I 
came early down in the morning the sun was 
rising opposite, shining into the room over a 
calm sea, along an avenue of light; by de- 
grees, as it rose, the whole sea was gilt with 
light, and the hills bathed in a violet mist. 
By breakfast-time all color had faded from the 
sea — it was like silver passing on each side 
into gray; the sky was blue, flecked with 
fleecy clouds; while, on the gentler slopes of 
the coast opposite, fields and woods, and quar- 
ries and lines of stratification begin to show 
themselves, though the cliffs are still in 
shadow, and the more distant headlands still a 
mere succession of ghosts, each one fainter 
than the one before it. As the morning ad- 
vances the sea becomes blue, the dark woods, 
green meadows, and golden cornfields of the 
opposite coast more distinct, and the details of 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 219 

the cliffs come gradually into view, and fish- 
ing-boats with dark sails begin to appear. 

Gradually the sun rises higher, a yellow line 
of shore appears under the opposite cliffs, and 
the sea changes its color, mapping itself out 
as it were, the shallower parts turquoise blue, 
almost green; the deeper ones deep violet. 

This does not last long — a thunderstorm 
comes up. The wind mutters overhead, the 
rain patters on the leaves, the coast opposite 
seems to shrink into itself, as if it would fly 
from the storm. The sea grows dark and 
rough, and white horses appear here and there. 

But the storm is soon over. The clouds 
break, the rain stops, the sun shines once more, 
the hills opposite come out again. They are 
divided now not only into fields and woods, 
but into sunshine and shadow. The sky 
clears, and as the sun begins to descend west- 
ward the sea becomes one beautiful clear uni- 
form azure, changing again soon to pale blue 
in front and dark violet beyond; and once 
more as clouds begin to gather again, into an 
archipelago of bright blue sea and deep islands 
of ultramarine. As the sun travels westward 
the opposite hills change again. They scarcely 
seem like the same country. What was in sun 
is now in shade, and what was in shade now 
lies bright in the sunshine. The sea once 
more becomes a uniform solid blue, only 
flecked in places by scuds of wind, and becom- 
ing paler toward evening as the sun sinks, 
the cliffs which catch his setting rays losing 
their deep color and in some places looking 



220 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

almost as white as chalk, while at sunset they 
light up again for a moment with a golden 
glow, the sea at the same time sinking to a 
cold gray. But soon the hills grow cold, too, 
Golden Cap holding out bravely to the last, 
and the shades of evening settle over cliff and 
wood, cornfield and meadow. 

These are but a part, and a very small part, 
of the changes of a single day. And scarcely 
any two days are alike. At times a sea-fog 
covers everything. Again the sea which 
sleeps to-day so peacefully sometimes rages, 
and the very existence of the bay itself bears 
witness to its force. 

The night, again, varies like the day. Some- 
times shrouded by a canopy of darkness, some- 
times lit up by millions of brilliant worlds, 
sometimes bathed in the light of a moon, 
which never retains the same form for two 
nights together. 

If Lakes are less grand than the sea, they are 
in some respects even more lovely The sea- 
shore is comparatively bare. The banks of 
Lakes are often richly clothed with vegetation 
which comes close down to the water's edge, 
sometimes hanging even into the water itself. 
They are often studded with well-wooded 
islands. They are sometimes fringed with 
green meadows, sometimes bounded by rocky 
promontories rising directly from compara- 
tively deep water, while the calm bright sur- 
face is often fretted by a delicate pattern of 
interlacing ripples, or reflects a second, soft- 
ened, and inverted landscape. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 221 

To water again we owe the marvelous spec- 
tacle of the rainbow — " God's bow in the 
clouds. " It is indeed truly a heavenly mes- 
senger, and so unlike anything else that it 
scarcely seems to belong to this world. 

Many things are colored, but the rainbow 
seems to be color itself. 

"First the flaming red 
Sprang vivid forth ; the tawny orange next, 
And next delicious yellow ; by whose side 
Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing green. 
i Then the pure blue that swells autumnal skies, 

Ethereal play'd; and then, of sadder hue 
Emerged the deeper indigo (as when 
The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost), 
While the last gleam ings of refracted light 
Died in the tainting violet away/' 

We do not, I think, sufficiently realize how 
wonderful is the blessing of color. It would 
have been possible, it would even seem more 
probable, that though light might have enabled 
us to perceive objects, this could only have 
been by shade and form. How we perceive 
color it is very difficult to comprehend, and 
yet when we speak of beauty, among the ideas 
which come to us most naturally are those of 
birds and butterflies, flowers and shells, 
precious stones, skies, and rainbows. 

Our minds might have been constituted ex- 
actly as they are, we might have been capable 
of comprehending the highest and sublimest 
truths, and yet, but for a small organ in the 
head, the world of sound would have been shut 
out from us; we should have lost the sounds 
of nature, the charms of music, the conversa- 



222 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

tion of friends, and have been condemned to 
perpetual silence : and yet a slight alteration 
in the retina, which is not thicker than a sheet 
of paper, not larger than a finger nail, — and 
the glorious spectacle of this beautiful world, 
the exquisite variety of form, the glory and 
play of color, the variety of scenery, of woods 
and fields, and lakes and hills, seas and 
mountains, the glory of the sky alike by day 
and night, would all have been lost to us. 

Mountains, again, "seem to have been built 
for the human race, as at once their schools 
and cathedrals; full of treasures of illumi- 
nated manuscript for the scholar, kindly in 
simple lessons for the worker, quiet in pale 
cloisters for the thinker, glorious in holiness 
for the worshiper. And of these great cathe- 
drals of the earth, with their gates of rock, 
pavements of cloud, choirs of stream and 
stone, altars of snow, and vaults of purple 
traversed by the continual stars." 

All these beauties are comprised in Tenny- 
son's exquisite description of CEnone's vale — 
the city, flowers, trees, river, and mountains. 

"There is a vale in Ida, lovelier 
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. 
The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen, 
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, 
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand 
The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down 
Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars 
The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine 
In cataract after cataract to the sea. 
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus 
Stands up and takes the morning ; but in front 
The gorges, opening wide apart, reve* il 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 223 

Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel, 
The crown of Troas. 1 ' 

And when we raise our eyes from earth, who 
has not sometimes felt "the witchery of the 
soft blue sky;" who has not watched a cloud 
floating upward as if on its way to heaven, 
or when 

"Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof 
The mountain its columns be." 

And yet, "if, in our moments of utter idle- 
ness, and insipidity, we turn to the sky as a 
last resource, which of its phenomena do 
we speak of? One says, it has been wet; and 
another, it has been windy; and another, it 
has been warm. Who, among the whole chat- 
tering crowd, can tell me of the forms and the 
precipices of the chain of tall white mountains 
that girded the horizon at noon yesterday? 
Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came out of 
the south, and smote upon their summits until 
they melted and moldered away in a dust of 
blue rain? Who saw the dance of the dead 
clouds when the sunlight left them last night, 
and the west wind blew them before it like 
withered leaves? All has passed, unregretted 
as unseen ; or if the apathy be ever shaken off, 
even for an instant, it is only by what is gross, 
or what is extraordinary; and yet it is not in 
the broad and fierce manifestations of the ele- 
mental energies, not in the clash of the hail, 
nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the highest 
characters of the sublime are developed. ' ' 

But exquisitely lovely as is the blue arch of 



224 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

the midday sky, with its inexhaustible variety 
of clouds, "there is yet a light which the eye 
invariably seeks with a deeper feeling of the 
beautiful, the light of the declining or breaking 
day, and the flakes of scarlet cloud burning 
like watch-fires in the green sky of the hori- 
zon." 

The evening colors, indeed, soon fade away, 
but as night comes on, 

"How glorious the firmament 
With living sapphires ! Hesperus that led 
The starry host, rode brightest ; till the moon 
Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, 
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw." 

We generally speak of a beautiful night 
when it is calm and clear, and the stars shine 
brightly overhead ; but how grand also are the 
wild ways of Nature, how magnificent when 
the lightning flashes, t4 between gloom and 
glory;" when 

"From peak to peak, the rattling crags among 
Leaps the live thunder." 

In the words of Ossian — 

"Ghosts ride in the tempest to-night; 
Sweet is their voice between the gusts of wind, 
Their songs are of other worlds." 

Nor are the wonders and beauties of the 
heavens limited by the clouds and the blue sky, 
lovely as they are. In the heavenly bodies we 
have before us "the perpetual presence of the 
sublime." They are so immense and so far 
away, and yet on soft summer nights "they 









"?!?:*; 




" The city of London at early dawn." — Page 211. 

Pleasures of Life. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 225 

seem leaning down to whisper in the ear of 
our souls." 

44 A man can hardly lift up his eyes toward 
the heavens,' ' says Seneca, "without wonder 
and veneration, to see so many millions of radi- 
ant lights, and to observe their courses and 
revolutions, even without any respect to the 
common good of the Universe. ■ ' 

Who does not sympathize with the feelings 
of Dante as he rose from his visit to the lower 
regions, until, he says, 

"On our view the beautiful lights of heaven 
Dawned through a circular opening in the cave, 
Thence issuing, we again beheld the stars. ' ' 

As we watch the stars at night they seem so 
still and motionless that we can hardly realize 
that all the time they are rushing on with a 
velocity far, far exceeding any that man has 
ever accomplished. 

Like the sands of the sea, the stars of heaven 
have ever been used as an appropriate symbol 
of number, and we know that there are some 
75,000,000, many, no doubt, with planets of 
their own. But this is by no means all. The 
floor of heaven is not only " thick inlaid with 
patines of bright gold," but is studded also 
with extinct stars, once probably as brilliant as 
our own sun, but now dead and cold, as Helm- 
holtz tells us our sun itself will be some 
seventeen millions of years hence. Then, 
again, there are the comets, which, though 
but few are visible to us at once, are even more 
numerous than the stars ; there are the nebulae, 

15 Pleasures 



226 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 






and the countless minor bodies circulating in 
space, and occasionally visible as meteors. 

Nor is it only the number of the heavenly 
bodies which is so overwhelming ; their mag- 
nitude and distances are almost more impres- 
sive. The ocean is so deep and broad as to be 
almost infinite, and indeed in so far as our 
imagination is the limit, so it may be. Yet 
what is the ocean compared to the sky. Our 
globe is little compared to the giant orbs of 
Jupiter and Saturn, which again sink into 
insignificance by the side of the sun. The sun 
itself is almost as nothing compared with the 
dimensions of the solar system. Sirius is cal- 
culated to be a thousand times as great as the 
Sun, and a million times as far away. The 
solar system itself travels in one region of 
space, sailing between worlds and worlds, and 
is surrounded by many other systems as great 
and complex as itself; and we know that even 
then we have not reached the limits of the 
Universe itself. 

There are stars so distant that their light, 
though traveling 180,000 miles in a second, yet 
takes years to reach us; and beyond all these 
are other systems of stars which are so far 
away that they cannot be perceived singly, but 
even in our most powerful telescopes appear 
only as minute clouds or nebulae. It is, in-| 
deed, but a feeble expression of the truth to 
say that the infinities revealed to us by Science, 
the — infinitely great in the one direction, and 
the infinitely small in the other, — go far be- 
yond anything which had occurred to the un- 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 227 

aided imagination of Man, and are not only a 
never-failing source of pleasure and interest, 
but seem to lift us out of the petty troubles 
and sorrows of life. 



228 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE TROUBLES OF LIFE. 

We have in life many troubles, and troubles 
are of many kinds. Some sorrows, alas, are 
real enough, especially those we bring on 
ourselves, but others, and by no means the 
least numerous, are mere ghosts of troubles: 
if we face them boldly, we find that they have 
no substance or reality, but are mere creations 
of our own morbid imagination, and that it is 
as true now as in the time of David that "Man 
disquieteth himself in a vain shadow/' 

Some, indeed, of our troubles are evils, but 
not real ; while others are real, but not evils. 

4 'And yet, into how unfathomable a gulf the 
mind rushes when the troubles of this world 
agitate it. If it then forget its own light, 
which is eternal joy, and rush into the outer 
darkness, which are the cares of this world, as 
the mind now does, it knows nothing else but 
lamentations." 

"Athens," said Epictetus, "is a good place, 
— but happiness is much better; to be free 
from passions, free from disturbance." 

We should endeavor to maintain ourselves in 

"that blessed mood 
In which the burden of the mystery, 
In which the heavy and the weary weight, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 22$ 

Of all this unintelligible world 
Is lightened. ' ' 

So shall we fear " neither the exile of Aris- 
tides, nor the prison of Anaxagoras, nor the 
poverty of Socrates, nor the condemnation of 
Phocion, but think virtue worthy our love 
even under such trials. " We should then be, 
to a great extent, independent of external 
circumstances, for 

" Stone walls do not a prison make 
Nor iron bars a cage, 
Minds innocent and quiet take 
That for an hermitage. 

" If I have freedom in my love, 
And in my soul am free ; 
Angels alone that soar above 
Enjoy such liberty." 

Happiness, indeed, depends much more on 
what is within than without us. When Ham- 
let says the world is "a goodly prison; in 
which there are many confines, wards, and 
dungeons ; Denmark being one of the worst, ' ' 
and Rosencrantz differs from him, he rejoins 
wisely, "Why, then, 'tis none to you: for there 
is nothing either good or bad, but thinking 
makes it so: to me it is a prison." "All is 
opinion/' says Marcus Aurelius. "That which 
does not make a man worse, how can it make 
his life worse? But death certainly, and life, 
honor and dishonor, pain and pleasure, all 
these things happen equally to good men and 
bad, being things which make us neither bet- 
ter nor worse. ' ' 



230 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"The greatest evils," says Jeremy Taylor, 
"are from within us; and from ourselves also 
we must look for our greatest good. " 

tk The mind," says Milton, 

"is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." 

Milton indeed in his blindness saw more 
beautiful visions, and Beethoven in his deaf- 
ness heard more heavenly music, than most of 
us can ever hope to enjoy. 

We are all apt, when we know not what may 
happen, to fear the worst. When we know 
the full extent of any danger, it is half over. 
Hence, we dread ghosts more than robbers, 
not only without reason, but against reason; 
for even if ghosts existed, how could they 
hurt us? and in ghost stories, few, even those 
who say that they have seen a ghost, ever pro- 
fess or pretend to have felt one. 

Milton, in his description of death, dwells on 
this characteristic of obscurity: 

"The other shape, 
If shape it might be call'd that shape had none 
Distinguishable, in member, joint, or limb ; 
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, 
For each seem'd either; black he stood as night; 
Fierce as ten furies ; terrible as hell ; 
And shook a deadly dart. What seem'd his head 
The likeness of a kingly crown had on." 

The effect of darkness and night in enhanc- 
ing terrors is dwelt on in one of the sublimest 
passages in Job — 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 231 

4 'In thoughts from the visions of the night, 
When deep sleep falleth on men, 
Fear came upon me, and trembling, 
Which made all my bones to shake. 
Then a spirit passed before my face ; 
The hair of my flesh stood up. 
It stood still, an image was before mine eyes: 
There was silence ; and I heard a voice saying, 
Shall mortal man be more just than God?" 

Thus was the terror turned into a lesson of 
comfort and of mercy. 

We often magnify troubles and difficulties, 
and look at them till they seem much greater 
than they really are. 

"Dangers are no more light, if. they once 
seem light; and more dangers have deceived 
men than forced them : nay, it were better to 
meet some dangers half way, though they 
come nothing near, than to keep too long a 
watch upon their approaches; for if a man 
watch too long, it is odds he will fall asleep. " 

Foresight is very wise, but foresorrow is very 
foolish ; and castles are at any rate better than 
dungeons, in the air. 

Some of our troubles, no doubt, are real 
enough, but yet are not evils. 

It happens, unfortunately too often, that by 
some false step, intentional or unintentional, 
we have missed the right road, and gone 
wrong. Can we then retrace our steps? can 
we recover what is lost? This may be done. 
It is too gloomy a view to affirm that 

"A word too much, or a kiss too long, 
And the world is never the same again." 



232 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

There are two noble sayings of Socrates, that 
to do evil is more to be avoided than to suffer 
it ; and that when a man has done evil, it is 
better for him to be punished than to be un- 
punished. 

We generally speak of selfishness as a fault, 
and as if it interfered with the general happi- 
ness. But this is not altogether correct. 

The pity is that so many people are foolishly 
selfish: that they pursue a course of action 
which neither makes themselves nor any one 
else happy. 

4 'Every man," says Goethe, * 'ought to 
begin with himself, and make his own happi- 
ness first, from which the happiness of the 
whole world would as last unquestionably fol- 
low. " It is easy to say that this is too broadly 
stated, and of course exceptions might be 
pointed out: but if every one would avoid 
excess, and take care of his own health ; would 
keep himself strong and cheerful; would make 
his home happy, and give no cause for the 
petty vexations which embitter domestic life ; 
would attend to his own affairs and keep him- 
self sober and solvent; would, in the words of 
the Chinese proverb, "sweep away the snow 
from before his own door, and never mind the 
frost upon his neighbor's tiles;" though it 
might not be the noblest course of conduct, 
still how well it would be for their family, 
relations, and friends. But, unfortunately, 

"Look round the habitable world, how few 
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue. ' ' 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 233 

It would be a great thing if people could be 
brought to realize that they can never add to 
the sum of their happiness by doing wrong. 
In the case of children, indeed, we recognize 
this; we perceive that a spoilt child is not a 
happy one ; that it would have been far better 
for him to have been punished at first and 
thus saved from greater suffering in after life. 

It is a beautiful idea that every man has 
with him a Guardian Angel; and it is true too: 
for Conscience is ever on the watch, ever 
ready to warn us of danger. 

We often feel disposed to complain, and yet 
it is most ungrateful: 

"For who would lose, 
Though full of pain, this intellectual being 
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity ; 
To perish rather, swallowed up, and lost 
In the wide womb of uncreated thought." 

But perhaps it will be said that we are sent 
here in preparation for another and a better 
world. Well, then, why should we complain 
of what is but a preparation for future happi- 
ness? 

We ought to 

"Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 
God's messenger sent down to thee; do thou 
With courtesy receive him ; rise and bow ; 
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave 
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave ; 
Then lay before him all thou hast ; allow 
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow, 
Or mar thy hospitality ; no wave 
Of mortal tumult to obliterate 
The soul's marmoreal calmness: Grief should be 
16 Pleasures 



234 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate; 
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ; 
Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend 
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to 
the end." 

Some persons are like the waters of Siloam, 
and require to be troubled before they can 
exercise their virtue. 

"We shall get more contentedness, " says 
Plutarch, "from the presence of all these bless- 
ings if we fancy them as absent, and remember 
from time to time how people when ill yearn 
for health, and people in war for peace, and 
strangers and unknown in a great city for rep- 
utation and friends, and how painful it is to 
be deprived of all these when one has once 
had them. For then each of these blessings 
will not appear to us only great and valuable 
when it is lost, and of no value when we have 
it. . . . And yet it makes much for content- 
edness of mind to look for the most part at 
home and to our own condition ; or if not, to 
look at the case of people worse off than our- 
selves, and not, as people do, to compare 
ourselves with those who are better off. . . . 
But you will find others, Chians, or Galatians, 
or Bithynians, not content with the share of 
glory or power they have among their fellow- 
citizens, but weeping because they do not wear 
senators' shoes; or, if they have them, that 
they cannot be praetors at Rome ; or if they get 
that office that they are not consuls; or if they 
are consuls, that they are only proclaimed 
second and not first. . . . Whenever, then, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 230 

you admire any one carried by in his litter as 
a greater man than yourself, lower your eye-, 
and look at those that bear the litter. " And 
again, "I am very taken with Diogenes' re 
mark to a stranger at Lacedsemon, who was 
dressing with much display for a feast, *Does 
not a good man consider every day a feast?' 
. . . Seeing then that life is the most com- 
plete initiation into all these things, it ought 
to be full of ease of mind and joy;" and if 
properly understood, would enable us "to 
acquiesce in the present without repining, to 
remember the past with thankfulness, and to 
meet the future hopefully and cheerfully with- 
out fear or suspicion. ' ' 



236 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER X. 

LABOR AND REST. 

"Through labor to rest, through combat to victory." 

— Thomas a Kempis. 

Among the troubles of life I do not, of 
course, reckon the necessity of labor. 

Work indeed, and hard work, if only it is in 
moderation, is in itself a rich source of happi- 
ness. We all know how quickly time passes 
when we are well employed, while the mo- 
ments hang heavily on the hands of the idle. 
Occupation drives away care and all the small 
troubles of life. The busy man has no time 
to brood or to fret 

"From toil he wins his spirits light, 
From busy day the peaceful night, 
Rich, from the very want of wealth, 
In Heaven's best treasures, peace and health." 

This applies especially to the labor of the 
field and the workshop. Humble it may be, 
but if it does not dazzle with the promise of 
fame, it gives the satisfaction of duty fulfilled, 
and the inestimable blessing of health. As 
Emerson reminds those entering life, "The 
angels that live with them, and are weaving 
laurels of life for their youthful brows, are toil 
and truth and mutual faith. ' ' 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 237 

Labor was truly said by the ancients to be 
the price which the gods set upon everything 
worth having. We all admit, though we often 
forget, the marvelous power of perseverance, 
and yet all Nature, down to Bruce* s spider, 
is continually impressing this lesson on us. 

Hard writing, it has been said, makes easy 
reading; Plato is said to have rewritten the 
first page of the Republic thirteen times ; and 
Carlo Maratti, we are told, sketched the head 
of Antinous three hundred times before he 
wrought it to his satisfaction. 

It is better to wear out than to rust out, and 
there is <4 a dust which settles on the heart, as 
well as that which rests upon the ledge." 

But though labor is good for man, it may be, 
and unfortunately often is, carried to excess. 
Many are wearily asking themselves 

"Ah why 
Should life all labor be?" 

There is a time for all things, says Solomon, 
a time to work and a time to play : we shall 
work all the better for reasonable change, and 
one reward of work is to secure leisure. 

It is a good saying that where there's a will 
there's a way; but while it is all very well to 
wish, wishes must not take the place of work 

In whatever sphere his duty lies every man 
must rely mainly on himself. Others can help 
us, but we must make ourselves. No one else 
can see for us. To profit by our advantages 
we must learn to use for ourselves 



238 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"The dark lantern of the spirit 
Which none can see by, but he who bears it." 

It is hardly an exaggeration to say that 
honest work is never thrown away. If we 
do not find the imaginary treasure, at any rate 
we enrich the vineyard. 

"Work, " says Nature to man, "in every 
hour, paid or unpaid ; see only that thou work, 
and thou canst not escape the reward ; whether 
thy work be fine or coarse, planting corn or 
writing epics, so only it be honest work, done 
to thine own approbation, it shall earn a 
reward to the senses as well as to the thought: 
no matter how often defeated, you are born to 
victory. The reward of a thing well done is 
to have done it. " 

Nor can any work, however persevering, or 
any success, however great, exhaust the prizes 
of life. 

The most studious, the most successful, 
must recognize that there yet remain 

1 'So much to do that is not e'en begun, 
So much to hope for that we cannot see. 
So much to win, so many things to be. M 

At the present time, though there may be 
some special drawbacks, still we come to our 
work with many advantages which were not 
enjoyed in olden times. We live in much 
greater security ourselves, and are less liable 
to have the fruits of our labor torn violently 
from us. 

In olden times the difficulties of study were 
far greater than they are now. Books were 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 239 

expensive and cumbersome, in many cases 
moreover chained to the desks on which they 
were kept. The greatest scholars have often 
been very poor. Erasmus used to read by 
moonlight because he could not afford a candle, 
and " begged a penny, not for the love of 
charity, but for the love of learning. ' ' 

Want of time is no excuse for idleness. 
'" Our life," says Jeremy Taylor, "is too short 
to serve the ambition of a haughty prince or a 
usurping rebel; too little time to purchase 
great wealth, to satisfy the pride of a vain- 
glorious fool, to trample upon all the enemies 
of our just or unjust interest: but for the ob- 
taining virtue, for the purchase of sobriety and 
modesty, for the actions of religion, God gives 
us time sufficient, if we make the outdoings of 
the morning and evening, that is, our infancy 
and old age, to be taken into the computations 
of a man." 

Work is so much a necessity of existence, 
that it is less a question whether, than how, 
we shall work. An old proverb tells us that 
the Devil finds work for those who do not 
make it for themselves. 

If we Englishmen have succeeded as a race, 
it has been due in no small measure to the fact 
that we have worked hard. Not only so, but 
we have induced the forces of Nature to work 
for us. "Steam," says Emerson, "is almost an 
Englishman." 

The power of work has especially character- 
ized our greatest men. Cecil said of Sir W. 
Raleigh that he "could toil terribly.' ' 



240 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

We are most of us proud of belonging to the 
greatest Empire the world has ever seen. It 
may be said of us with especial truth in Words- 
worth's words that 

"The world is too much with us; late and soon 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers. ' ' 

Yes, but what world? The world will be with 
us sure enough, and whether we please or not. 
But what sort of world it will be for us will 
depend greatly on ourselves. 

We are told to pray not to be taken out of 
the world, but to be kept from the evil. 

There are various ways of working. Quick- 
ness may be good, but haste is bad. 

"Wie das Gestirn 
Ohne Hast 
Ohne Rast 
Drehe sich Jeder 
Um die eigne Last." 

4 * Like a star, without haste, without rest, let 
every one fulfill his own hest. ' ' 

Newton is reported to have described as his 
mode of working that "I keep the subject con- 
stantly before me, and wait till the first dawn- 
ings open slowly by little and little into a full 
and clear light. " 

"The secret of genius," says Emerson, "is to 
suffer no fiction to exist for us; to realize all 
that we know ; in the high refinement of mod- 
ern life, in Arts, in Sciences, in books, in men, 
to exact good faith, reality, and a purpose; 
and first, last, midst, and without end, to honor 
every truth by use." 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 241 

Lastly, work secures the rich reward of rest ;; 
we must rest to be able to work well, and 
work to be able to enjoy rest. 

44 We must no doubt beware that our rest 
become not the rest of stones, which so long 
as they are torrent- tossed and thunder-stricken 
maintain their majesty ; but when the stream 
is silent, and the storm past, suffer the grass. 
to cover them, and the lichen to feed on them, 
and are plowed down into the dust. . . . The 
rest which is glorious is of the chamois 
couched breathless in its granite bed, not of 
the stalled ox over his fodder. ' ' 

When we have done our best We may wait 
the result with anxiety. 

44 What hinders a man, who has clearly com- 
prehended these things, from living with a. 
light heart and bearing easily the reins; quietly 
expecting everything which can happen, and 
enduring that which has already happened? 
Would you have me to bear poverty? Come 
and you will know what poverty is when it 
has found one who can act well the part of a 
poor man. Would you have me to possess 
power? Let me have power, and also the 
trouble of it. Well, banishment? Wherever 
I shall go, there it will be well with me. ' - 

The Buddhists believe in many forms of 
future punishment ; but the highest reward of 
virtue is Nirvana — the final and eternal rest. 

Very touching is the appeal of Ashmanezer 
to be left in peace, which was engraved on his 
Sarcophagus at Sidon, — now in Paris. 

44 In the month of Bui, the fourteenth year 



242 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

of my reign, I, King Ashmanezer, King of the 
Sidonians, son of King Tabuith, King of the 
Sidonians, spake, saying: 'I have been stolen 
away before my time — a son of the flood of 
days. The whilom great is dumb ; the son of 
gods is dead. And I rest in this grave, even 
in this tomb, in the place which I have built. 
My adjuration to all the Ruling Powers and all 
men: Let no one open this resting-place, nor 
search for treasure, for there is no treasure 
with us; and let him not bear away the couch 
of my rest, and not trouble us in this resting- 
place by disturbing the couch of my slumbers. 
. . . For all men who should open the tomb 
of my rest, or any man who should carry away 
the couch of my rest, or any one who trouble 
me on this couch : unto them there shall be no 
rest with the departed : they shall not be bur- 
ied in a grave, and there shall be to them 
neither son nor seed. . . . There shall be to 
them neither root below nor fruit above, nor 
honor among the living under the sun/ " 

The idle man does not know what it is to 
rest. Hard work, moreover, tends not only 
to give us rest for the body, but, what is even 
more important, peace to the mind. If we 
have done our best to do, and to be, we can 
Test in peace. 

"En la sua voluntade e nostra pace." In 
His will is our peace: and in such peace the 
mind will find its truest delight, for 

"When care sleeps, the soul wakes." 

In youth, as is right enough, the idea of 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 243 

exertion, and of struggles, is inspiriting and 
delightful; but as years advance the hope and 
prospect of peace and of rest gain ground 
gradually, and 

"When the last dawns are fallen on gray, 
And all life's toils and ease complete, 
They know who work, not they who play, 
If rest is sweet." 



244 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER XI. 

RELIGION. 

"For what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do* 
justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy 
God?"— Micah. 

"Pure religion and undefiled is this, to visit the father- 
less and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself 
unspotted from the world." — James i. 

"The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life."— 2 Cor- 
inthians. 

It would be quite out of place here to enter 
into any discussion of theological problems or 
to advocate any particular doctrines. Never- 
theless, I could not omit what is to most so 
great a comfort and support in sorrow and 
suffering, and a source of the purest happiness. 

We commonly, however, bring together 
under this term two things which are yet very 
different: the religion of the heart, and that of 
the head. The first deals with conduct, and 
the duties of Man ; the second with the nature 
of the supernatural and the future of the soul, 
being in fact a branch of knowledge. 

Religion should be a strength, guide, and 
comfort, not a source of intellectual anxiety or 
angry argument. To persecute for religion's 
sake implies belief in a jealous, cruel, and un~ 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 245 

just Deity. If we have done our best to arrive 
at the truth, to torment one's self about the 
result is to doubt the goodness of God, and, in 
the words of Bacon, "to bring down the Holy 
Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove in the 
shape of a raven." "The letter killeth, but 
the spirit giveth life," and the first duty of 
religion is to form the highest possible concep- 
tion of God. 

Many a man, however, and still more many 
a woman, render themselves miserable on 
entering life by theological doubts and diffi- 
culties. These have reference, in ninety-nine 
cases out of a hundred, not to what we should 
do, but what we should think. As regards 
action, conscience is generally a ready guide ; 
to follow it is the real difficulty. Theology, 
on the other hand, is a most abstruse science ; 
but as long as we honestly wish to arrive at 
truth we need not fear that we shall be pun- 
ished for unintentional error. "For what," 
says Micah, "doth the Lord require of thee, 
but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk 
humbly with thy God." There is very little 
theology in the Sermon on the Mount, or, 
indeed, in any part of the Gospels; and the 
differences which keep us apart have their 
origin rather in the study than the Church. 
Religion was intended to bring peace on earth 
and good-will toward men, and whatever 
tends to hatred and persecution, however cor- 
rect in the letter, must be utterly wrong in the 
spirit. 

How much misery would have been saved 



246 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

to Europe if Christians had been satisfied with 
the Sermon on the Mount! 

Bokhara is said to have contained more than 
three hundred colleges, all occupied with the- 
ology, but ignorant of everything else, and it 
was probably one of the most bigoted and un- 
charitable cities in the world. 4< Knowledge 
puffeth up, but charity edifieth." 

We must not forget that 

"He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things both great and small.' ' 

Theologians too often appear, to agree that 

"The awful shadow of some unseen power 
Floats, though unseen, among us." 

and in the days of the Inquisition many must 
have sighed for the cheerful childlike religion 
of the Greeks, if they could but have had the 
Nymphs and Nereids, the Fays and Faeries, 
with Destiny and Fate, but without Jupiter 
and Mars. 

Sects are the work of Sectarians. No truly 
great religious teacher, as Carlyle said, ever 
intended to found a new Sect. 

Diversity of worship, says a Persian proverb, 
"has divided the human race into seventy-two 
nations. " From among all their dogmas I 
have selected one — "Divine Love." And 
again, t4 He needs no other rosary whose thread 
of life is strung with the beads of love and 
thought. ' ' 

There is more true Christianity in some 
pagan Philosophers than in certain Christian 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 247 

theologians. Take, for instance, Plato, Mar- 
cus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Plutarch. 

44 Now I, Callicles," says Socrates, u am per- 
suaded of the truth of these things, and I 
consider how I shall present my soul whole 
and undefiled before the judge in that day. 
Renouncing the honors at which the world 
aims, I desire only to know the truth, and to 
live as well as I can, and, when the time 
comes, to die. And, to the utmost of my 
power, I exhort all other men to do the same. 
And in return for your exhortation of me, I 
exhort you also to take part in the great com- 
bat, which is the combat of life, and greater 
than every other earthly conflict. " 

44 As to piety toward the Gods," says Epic- 
tetus, "you must know that this is the chief 
thing, to have right opinions about them, to 
think that they exist, and that they administer 
the All well and justly; and you must fix 
yours if in this principle (duty), to obey them, 
and to yield to them in everything which hap- 
pens, and voluntarily to follow it as being ac- 
complished by the wisest intelligence. " 

44 Do not act," says Marcus Aurelius, 44 as if 
thou wert going to live ten thousand years. 
Death hangs over thee. While thou livest, 
while it is in thy power, be good . . . 

44 Since it is possible that thou mayest depart 
from life this very moment, regulate every act 
and thought accordingly. But to go away 
from among men, if there be gods, is not a 
thing to be afraid of, for -the gods will not 
involve thee in evil; but if, indeed, they do 



248 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

not exist, or if they have no concern about 
human affairs, what is it to me to live in a 
universe devoid of gods, or devoid of Provi- 
dence? But in truth they do exist, and they 
do care for human things, and they have put 
all the means in man's power to enable him 
not to fall into real evils. And as for the rest, 
if there was anything evil, they would have 
provided for this also, that it should be alto- 
gether in a man's power not to fall into it." 

And Plutarch: "The Godhead is not blessed 
b>y reason of his silver and gold, nor yet Al- 
mighty through his thunder and lightnings, 
but on account of knowledge and intelligence. " 

It is no doubt very difficult to arrive at the 
exact teaching of Eastern Moralists, but the 
same spirit runs through Oriental Literature. 
For instance, in the Toy Cart, when the wick- 
ed Prince wishes Vita to murder the Heroine, 
and says that no one would see him, Vita 
declares, "All nature would behold the crime 
— the Genii of the Grove, the Sun, the Moon, 
the Winds, the Vault of Heaven, the firm-set 
Earth, the mighty Yama who judges the dead, 
and the conscious Soul. ' ' 

Take even the most extreme type of differ- 
ence. Is the man, says Plutarch, "a criminal 
who holds there are no gods ; and is not he 
that holds them to be such as the superstitious 
Relieve them, is he not possessed with notions 
infinitely more atrocious? I, for my part, 
would much rather have men say of me that 
there never was a Plutarch at all, nor is now, 
than to say that Plutarch is a man inconstant, 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 249 

fickle, easily moved to anger, revengeful for 
trifling provocations, vexed at small things. " 
There is no doubt a tone of doubting sad- 
ness in Roman moralists, as in Hadrian's dy- 
ing lines to his soul — 

"Animula, vagula, blandula 
Hospes, comesque corporis 
Qua nunc abibis in loca: 
Pallidula, rigida, nudula, 
Nee, ut soles, dabis jocos." 

The same spirit, indeed, is expressed in the 
epitaph on the tomb of the Duke of Bucking- 
ham in Westminster Abbey — 

"Dubius non improbus vixi 
Incertus morior, non perturbatus ; 
Humanum est nescire et errare, 

Deo confido 
Omnipotenti benevolentissimo : 
Ens entium miserere mei." 

Many things have been mistaken for religion, 
selfishness especially, but also fear, hope, love 
of music, of art, of pomp ; scruples often take 
the place of love, and the glory of heaven is 
sometimes made to depend upon precious 
stones and jewelry. Many, as has been well 
said, run after Christ, not for the miracles, but 
for the loaves. 

In many cases religious differences are main- 
ly verbal. There is an Eastern tale of four 
men, an Arab, a Persian, a Turk, and a Greek, 
who agreed to club together for an evening 
meal, but when they had done so they quar- 
reled as to what it should be: The Turk pro- 
posed Azum, the Arab Aneb, the Persian Ang- 



250 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

hur, while the Greek insisted on Staphylion. 
While they were disputing 

"Before their eyes did pass, 
Laden with grapes, a gardener's ass. 
Sprang to his feet each man, and showed, 
With eager hand, that purple load. 
'See Azum,' said that Turk; and 'see 
Anghur,' the Persian; 'what should be 
Better.' 'Nay Aneb, Aneb 'tis,' 
The Arab cried. The Greek said, 'This 
Is my Staphylion. ' Then they bought 
Their grapes in peace. 
Hence be ye taught. ' ' 

It is said that on one occasion, when Dean 
Stanley had been explaining his views to Lord 
Beaconsfield, the latter replied, "Ah! Mr. 
Dean, that is all very well, but you must 
remember, — No Dogmas, no Deans." To lose 
such Deans as Stanley would indeed be a great 
misfortune; but does it follow? Religions, far 
from being really built on Dogmas, are too 
often weighed down and crushed by them. 
No one can doubt that Stanley has done much 
to strengthen the Church of England. 

We may not always agree with Spinoza, but 
is he not right when he says, "The first pre- 
cept of the divine law, therefore, indeed its 
sum and substance, is to live God — uncondi- 
tionally as the supreme good — uncondition- 
ally, I say, and not from any love or fear of 
aught besides?" And again, that the very 
essence of religion is belief in "a Supreme 
Being who delights in justice and mercy, 
whom all who would be saved are bound to 
obey, and whose worship consists in the prac* 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 251 

tice of justice and charity toward our neigh- 
bors?" 

Doubt is of two natures, and we often confuse 
a wise suspension of judgment with the weak- 
ness of hesitation. To profess an opinion for 
which we have no sufficient reason is clearly 
illogical, but when it is necessary to act we 
must do so on the best evidence available, 
however slight that may be. Herein lies the 
importance of common-sense, the instincts of a 
General, the sagacity of a Statesman. Pyrrho, 
the recognized representative of doubt, was 
often wise in suspending his judgment, how- 
ever foolish in hesitating to act, and in apolo- 
gizing when, after resisting all the arguments 
of philosophy, an angry dog drove him from 
his position. 

Collect from the Bible all that Christ 
thought necessary for his disciples, and how 
little Dogma there is. "Pure religion and 
undefiled is this, to visit the fatherless and 
widows in their affliction, and to keep himself 
unspotted from the world. " "By this shall all 
men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have 
love one to another. * ' "Suffer little children 
to come unto me." And one lesson which 
little children have to teach us is that religion 
is an affair of the heart and not of the mind 
only. 

Why should we expect Religion to solve 
questions with reference to the origin and des- 
tiny of the Universe? We do not expect the 
most elaborate treatise to tell, us the origin of 
electricity or of heat. Natural History throws 



252 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

no light on the origin of life. Has Biology 
ever professed to explain existence? 

"Simonides was asked at Syracuse by Hiero, 
who or what God was, when he requested a 
day's time to think of his answer. On subse- 
quent days he always doubled the period 
required for deliberation: and when Hiero 
inquired the reason, he replied that the longer 
he considered the subject, the more obscure it 
appeared. " 

The Vedas say, "In the midst of the sun is 
the light, in the midst of light is truth, and in 
the midst of truth is the imperishable Being. " 
Deity has been defined as a circle whose center 
is everywhere, and whose circumference is 
nowhere, but the "God is love" of St. John 
appeals more forcibly to the human soul. 

The Church is not a place for study or spec- 
ulation. Few but can sympathize with 
Eugenie de Guerin in her tender affection for 
the little Chapel at Cahuze where she tells us 
she left i4 tant de miseres." 

Doubt does not exclude Faith. 

"Perplexed in faith, but pure in deed 
At last he beat his music out. 
There lies more faith in honest doubt, 
Believe me, than in half the creeds." 

And if we must admit that many points are 
still, and probably long will be involved in 
obscurity, we may be pardoned if we indulge 
ourselves in various speculations both as to our 
beginning and our end. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 253 

4 'Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 

The soul that rises with us, our life's star 
Hath had elsewhere its setting, 

And cometh from afar ; 
Not in entire forgetfulness, 

And not in utter nakedness, 
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 

From God who is our home." 

"Unfortunately, many have attempted to 
compound for wickedness in life by purity of 
belief, a vain and fruitless effort. To do right 
is the sure ladder which leads up to Heaven, 
though the true faith will help us to find and 
to climb it. 

44 It was my duty to have loved the highest. 
It surely was my profit had I known, 
It would have been my pleasure had I seen. M 

But though religious truth can justify no 
bitterness, it is well worth any amount of 
thought and study. 

I hope I shall not be supposed to depreciate 
any honest effort to arrive at truth, or to 
undervalue the devotion of those who have 
died for their religion. But surely it is a mis- 
take to regard martyrdom as a merit, when from 
their own point of view it was in reality a priv- 
ilege. 

Let every man be pursuaded in his own 
mind. 

"Truth is the highest thing that man may keep." 

To arrive at the truth we should spare our- 
selves no pain, but certainly inflict none on 
others. 



254 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

We may be sure that quarrels will never 
advance religion, and that to persecute is no 
way to convert. No doubt those who consider 
that all who do not agree with them will suffer 
eternal torments, seem logically justified in 
persecution even unto death. Such a course, 
if carried out consistently, might stamp out a 
particular sect, and any sufferings which could 
be inflicted here would on this hypothesis be as 
nothing in comparison with the pains of Hell. 
Only it must be admitted that such a view of 
religion is incompatible with any faith in th^ 
goodness of God and seems quite irreconcilable^ 
with the teaching of Christ. 

Moreover, the Inquisition has even from its 
own point of view proved generally a failure. 
The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the 
Church. 

44 In obedience to the order of the Council of 
Constance (1415) the remains of Wickliffe were 
exhumed and burnt to ashes, and these cast 
into the Swift, a neighboring brook running 
hard by, and thus this brook hath conveyed his 
ashes into Avon: Avon into Severn; Severn 
into the narrow seas; they into the main 
ocean. And thus the ashes of Wickliffe are 
the emblem of his doctrine, which now is dis- 
persed all the world over. 

The Talmud says that when a man once 
asked Shamai to teach him the Law in one 
lesson, Shamai drove him away in anger. He 
then went to Hillel with the same request. 
Hillel said, 44 Do unto others as you would have 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 255 

others do unto you. This is the whole Law; 
the rest, merely Commentaries upon it. ' ' 

The Religion of the lower races is almost as 
a rule one of terror and of dread. Their 
deities are jealous and revengeful, cruel, merci- 
less, and selfish, hateful, and yet childish. 
They require to be propitiated by feasts and 
offerings, often even by human sacrifices. 
They are not only exacting, but so capricious 
that, with the best intentions, it is often 
impossible to be sure of pleasing them. From 
such evil beings Sorcerers and Witches derived 
their hellish powers. No one was safe. No 
one knew where danger lurked. Actions 
apparently the most trifling might be fraught 
with serious risk; objects apparently the most 
innocent might be fatal. 

In many cases there are supposed to be 
deities of Crime, of Misfortunes, of Disease. 
These wicked Spirits naturally encourage evil 
rather than good. An energetic friend of 
mine was sent to a district in India where 
small-pox was specially prevalent, and where 
one of the principal Temples was dedicated to 
the Goddess of that disease. He had the peo- 
ple vaccinated, in spite of some opposition, and 
the disease disappeared, much to the astonish- 
ment of the natives. But the priests of the 
Deity of Small-pox were not disconcerted ; only 
they deposed the Image of their discomfited 
Goddess, and petitioned my friend for some 
emblem of himself which they might install in 
her stead. 

We who are fortunate enough to live in this 



256 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

comparatively enlightened century hardly 
realize how our ancestors suffered from their 
belief in the existence of mysterious and mal- 
evolent beings, how their life was embittered 
and overshadowed by these awful apprehen- 
sions. 

As men, however, have risen in civilization, 
their religion has risen with them ; they have 
by degrees acquired higher and purer concep- 
tions of divine power. 

We are only just beginning to realize that a 
loving and merciful Father would not resent 
honest error, not even perhaps the attribution 
to him of such odious injustice. Yet what can 
he clearer than Christ's teaching on this point? 
He impressed it over and over again on his 
disciples. "The letter killeth, but the spirit 
giveth life. " 

"If," says Ruskin, "for every rebuke that 
we utter of men's vices, we put forth a claim 
upon their hearts ; if for every assertion of God's 
demands from them, we should substitute a 
display of His kindness to them: if side by 
side, with every warning of death, we could 
exhibit proofs and promises of immortality ; if, 
in fine, instead of assuming the being of an 
awful Deity, which men, though they cannot 
and dare not deny, are always unwilling, some- 
times unable, to conceive; we were to show 
them a near, visible, inevitable, but all-benefi- 
cent Deity, whose presence makes the earth 
itself a heaven, I think there would be fewer 
deaf children sitting in the market-place." 

But it must not be supposed that those who 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 257 

doubt whether the ultimate truth of the Uni- 
verse can be expressed in human words, or 
whether, even if it could, we should be able to 
comprehend it, undervalue the importance of 
religious study. Quite the contrary. Their 
doubts arise not from pride, but from humility: 
not because they do not appreciate divine 
truth, but on the contrary they doubt whether 
we can appreciate it sufficiently, and are skep- 
tical whether the infinite can be reduced to the 
finite. 

We may be sure that whatever may be right 
about religion, to quarrel over it must be 
wrong. "Let others wrangle," said St. Aug- 
ustine, "I will wonder. M 

Those who suspend their judgment are not 
on that account skeptics, and it is often those 
who think they know most, who are especially 
troubled by doubts and anxiety. 

It was Wordsworth who wrote 

"Great God, I had rather be 
A Pagan suckled in some creed outworn ; 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn. ' ' 

In religion, as with children at night, it is 
darkness and ignorance which create dread; 
light and love cast out fear. 

In looking forward to the future we may 
fairly hope with Ruskin that "the charities of 
more and more widely extended peace are pre- 
paring the way for a Christian Church which 
shall depend neither on ignorance for its con- 
tinuance, nor on controversy for its progress, 
but shall reign at once in light and love. 

17 Pleasures 



258 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE HOPE OF PROGRESS. 

4 'To what then may we not look forward, when a 
spirit of scientific inquiry shall have spread through 
those vast regions in which the progress of civilization, 
its sure precursor, is actually commenced and in active 
progress ! And what may we not expect from the exer- 
tions of powerful minds called into action under circum- 
stances totally different from any which have yet existed 
in the world, and over an extent of territory far surpass- 
ing that which has hitherto produced the whole harvest 
of human intellect?" — Herschel. 

There are two lines, if not more, in which 
we may look forward with hope to progress in 
the future. In the first place, increased knowl- 
edge of nature, of the properties of matter 
and of the phenomena which surround us, may 
afford to our children advantages far greater 
even than those which we ourselves enjoy. 
Secondly, the extension and improvement of 
education, the increasing influence of Science 
and Art, of Poetry and Music, of Literature 
and Religion, —of all the powers which are 
tending to good, will, we many reasonably 
hope, raise man and make him more master of 
himself, more able to appreciate and enjoy his 
advantages, and to realize the truth of the 
Italian proverb, that wherever light is, there is 
joy. 






THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 259 

One consideration which has greatly tended 
to retard progress has been the floating idea 
that there was some sort of ingratitude, and 
even impiety, in attempting to improve on 
what Divine Providence had arranged for us. 
Thus Prometheus was said to have incurred 
the wrath of Jove for bestowing on mortals the 
use of fire; and other improvements only 
escaped similar punishment when the ingenu- 
ity of priests attributed them to the special 
favor of some particular deity. This feeling 
has not even yet quite died out. Even I can 
remember the time when many excellent per- 
sons had a scruple or prejudice against the use 
of chloroform because they fancied that pain 
was ordained under certain circumstances. 
We are told that in early Saxon days Edwin, 
# King of Northumbria, called his nobles and 
his priests around him, to discuss whether a 
certain missionary should be heard or not. 
The king was doubtful. At last there rose an 
old chief, and said: — "You know, O King, 
how, on a winter evening, when you are sit- 
ting at supper in your hall, with your company 
around you, when the night is dark and 
dreary, when the rain and the snow rage out- 
side, when the hall inside is lighted and warm 
with a blazing fire, sometimes it happens that a 
sparrow flies into the bright hall out of the dark 
night, flies through the hall and then flies out 
at the other end into the dark night again. 
We see him for a few moments, but we know 
not whence he came nor whither he goes in the 
blackness of the storm outside. So is the life 



260 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

of man. It appears for a short space in the 
warmth and brightness of this life, but what 
came before this life, or what is to follow this 
life, we know not. If, therefore, these new 
teachers can enlighten us as to the darkness 
that went before, and the darkness that is to 
come after, let us hear what they have to teach 
us." 

It is often said, however, that great and 
unexpected as recent discoveries have been, 
there are certain ultimate problems which 
must ever remain unsolved. For my part, I 
would prefer to abstain from laying down any 
such limitations. When Park asked the Arabs 
what became of the sun at night, and whether 
the sun was always the same, or new each day, 
they replied that such a question was foolish, 
being entirely beyond the reach of human 
investigation. 

M. Comte, in his Cours de Philosophie Pos- 
itive, as recently as 1842, laid it down as an 
axiom regarding the heavenly bodies, "We 
may hope to determine their forms, distances, 
magnitude, and movements, but we shall never 
by any means be able to study their chemical 
composition or mineralogical structure. " Yet 
within a few years this supposed impossibility 
has been actually accomplished, showing how 
unsafe it is to limit the possibilities of science. 

It is, indeed, as true now as in the time of 
Newton, that the great ocean of truth lies 
undiscovered before us. I often wish that 
some President of the Royal Society, or of the 
British Association, would take for the theme 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 261 

of his annual address, "The things we do not 
know. ' ' Who can say on the verge of what dis- 
coveries we are perhaps even now standing ! It 
is extraordinary how slight a margin may stand 
for years between Man and some important 
improvement. Take the case of the electric 
light, for instance. It had been known for 
years that if a carbon rod be placed in an 
exhausted glass receiver, and a current of elec- 
tricity be passed through it, the carbon glowed 
with an intense light, but on the other hand it 
became so hot that the glass burst. The light, 
therefore, was useless, because the lamp burst 
as soon as it was lighted. Edison hit on the 
idea that if you made the carbon filament fine 
enough, you would get rid of the heat and yet 
have abundance of light. Edison's right to 
his patent has been contested on this very 
ground. It has been said that the mere intro- 
duction of so small a difference as the replace- 
ment of a thin rod by a fine filament was so 
slight an item that it could not be patented. 
The improvements by Swan, Lane Fox, and 
others, though so important as a whole, have 
been made step by step. 

Or take again the discovery of anaesthetics. 
At the beginning of the century Sir Humphrey 
discovered laughing gas, as it was then called. 
He found that it produced complete insensi- 
bility to pain and yet did not injure health. 
A tooth was actually taken out under its influ- 
ence, and of course without suffering. These 
facts were known to our chemists, they were 
explained to the students in our great hospitals, 



262 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and yet for half a century the obvious applica- 
tion occurred to no one. Operations continued 
to be performed as before, patients suffered the 
same horrible tortures, and yet the beneficent 
element was in our hands, its divine properties 
were known, but it never occurred to any one 
to make use of it. 

I may give one more illustration. Printing 
is generally said to have been discovered in 
the fifteenth century ; and so it was for all 
practical purposes. But in fact printing was 
known long before. The Romans used 
stamps; on the monuments of the Assyrian 
kings the name of the reigning monarch may 
be found duly printed. What then is the 
difference? One little, but all-important step. 
The real inventor of printing was the man 
into whose mind flashed the fruitful idea of 
having separate stamps for each letter, instead 
of for separate words. How slight seems the 
difference, and yet for 3,000 years the thought 
occurred to no one. Who can tell what other 
discoveries, as simple and yet as far-reaching, 
lie at this very moment under our very eyes! 

Archimedes said that if you would give him 
room to stand on, he would move the earth. 
One truth leads to another; each discovery 
renders possible another, and, what is more, a 
liigher. 

We are but beginning to realize the marvel- 
ous range and complexity of Nature. I have 
elsewhere called attention to this with special 
reference to the problematical organs of sense 
possessed by many animals. 






THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 263 

There is every reason to hope that future 
studies will throw much light on these interest- 
ing structures. We may, no doubt, expect 
much from the improvement in our micro- 
scopes, the use of new re-agents, and of 
mechanical appliances; but the ultimate atoms 
of which matter is composed are so infinitesi- 
mally minute, that it is difficult to foresee any 
manner in which we may hope for a final solu- 
tion of these problems. 

Loschmidt, who has since been confirmed 
by Stoney and Sir W. Thomson, calculates 
that each of the ultimate atoms of matter is at 
most one fifty-millionth of an inch in diameter. 
Under these circumstances we cannot, it would 
seem, hope at present for any great increase 
of our knowledge of atoms by improvements 
in the microscope. With our present instru- 
ments we can perceive lines ruled on glass 
which are one ninety thousandth of an inch 
apart; but owing to the properties of light 
itself, it would appear that we cannot hope to 
be able to perceive objects which are much 
less than one hundred- thousandth of an inch in 
diameter. Our microscopes may, no doubt, be 
improved, but the limitation lies not in the 
imperfection of our optical appliances, but in 
the nature of light itself. 

It has been calculated that a particle of albu- 
men one eighty-thousandth of an inch in 
diameter contains no less than 125,000,000 of 
molecules. In a simpler compound the num- 
ber would be much greater; in water, for in- 
stance, no less than 8,000,000,000. Even then, 



264 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

if we could construct microscopes far more 
powerful than any which we now possess, they 
could not enable us to obtain by direct vision 
any idea of the ultimate organization of mat- 
ter. The smallest sphere of organic matter 
which could be clearly defined with our most 
powerful microscopes may be, in reality, very 
complex ; may be built up of many millions of 
molecules, and it follows that there may be an 
almost infinite number of structural characters 
in organic tissues which we can at present 
foresee no mode of examining. 

Again, it has been shown that animals hear 
sounds which are beyond the range of our 
hearing, and I have proved they can perceive 
the ultra-violet rays, which are invisible to our 
eyes. 

Now, as every ray of homogeneous light 
which we can perceive at all, appears to us as 
a distinct color, it becomes probable that these 
ultra-violet rays must make themselves appar- 
ent to animals as a distinct and separate color 
(of which we can form no idea), but as differ- 
ent from the rest as red is from yellow, or 
green from violet. The question also arises 
whether white light to these creatures would 
differ from our white light in containing this 
additional color. 

These considerations cannot but raise the 
reflection how different the world may — I was 
going to say must — appear to other animals 
from what it does to us. Sound is the sensa- 
tion produced on us when the vibrations of 
the air strike on the drum of our ear. When 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 265 

they are few, the sound is deep ; as they in- 
crease in number, it becomes shriller and 
shriller; but when they reach 40,000 in a 
second, they cease to be audible. Light is the 
effect produced on us when waves of light 
strike on the eye. When 400 millions of mil- 
lions of vibrations of ether strike the retina in 
a second, they produce red, and as the number 
increases the color passes into orange, then yel- 
low, green, blue, and violet. But between 
40,000 vibrations in a second and 400 millions 
of millions we have no organ of sense capable 
of receiving the impression. Yet between 
these limits any number of sensations may ex- 
ist. We have five senses, and sometimes fancy 
that no others are possible. But it is obvious 
that we cannot measure the infinite by our 
own narrow limitations. 

Moreover, looking at the question from the 
other side, we find in animals complex organs 
of sense, richly supplied with nerves, but the 
function of which we are as yet powerless to 
explain. There may be fifty other senses as 
different from ours as sound is from sight; 
and even within the boundaries of our own 
senses there may be endless sounds which we 
cannot hear, and colors, as different as red 
from green, of which we have no conception. 
These and a thousand other questions remain 
for solution. The familiar world which sur- 
rounds us may be a totally different place to 
other animals. To them it may be full of 
music which we cannot hear, of color which 
we cannot see, of sensations which we cannot 

18 Pleasures 



266 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

conceive. To place stuffed birds and beasts in 
glass cases, to arrange insects in cabinets, and 
dried plants in drawers, is merely the drudgery 
and preliminary of study; to watch their 
habits, to understand their relations to one 
another, to study their instincts and intelli- 
gence, to ascertain their adaptations and their 
relations to the forces of Nature, to realize 
what the world appears to them; these consti- 
tute, as it seems to me at least, the true inter- 
est of natural history, and may even give us 
the clew to senses and perceptions of which at 
present we have no conception. 

From this point of view the possibilities of 
progress seem to me to be almost unlimited. 

So far again as the actual condition of man 
is concerned, the fact that there has been some 
advance cannot, I think, be questioned. 

In the Middle Ages, for instance, culture and 
refinement scarcely existed beyond the limits 
of courts, and by no means always there. The 
life in English, French, and German castles 
was rough and almost barbarous. Mr. Galton 
has expressed the opinion, which I am not 
prepared to question, that the population of 
Athens, taken as a whole, was as superior to 
us as we are to Australian savages. But even 
if that be so, our civilization, such as it is, is 
more diffused, so that unquestionably the gen- 
eral European level is much higher. 

Much, no doubt, is owing to the greater facil- 
ity of access to the literature of our country, 
to that literature, in the words of Macaulay, 
44 the brightest, the purest, the most durable 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 267 

of all the glories of our country; to that Liter- 
ature, so rich in precious truth and precious 
fiction ; to that Literature which boasts of the 
prince of all poets, and of the prince of all 
philosophers ; to that Literature which has ex- 
ercised an influence wider than that of our 
commerce, and mightier than that of our 
arms. ' ' 

Few of us make the most of our minds. 
The body ceases to grow in a few years ; but 
the mind, if we will let it, may grow as long as 
life lasts. 

The onward progress of the future will not, 
we may be sure, be confined to mere material 
discoveries. We feel that we are on the road 
to higher mental powers; that problems which 
now seem to us beyond the range of human 
thought will receive their solution, and open 
the way to still further advance. Progress, 
moreover, we may hope, will be not merely 
material, not merely mental, but moral also. 

It is natural that we should feel a pride in 
the beauty of England, in the size of our cities, 
the magnitude of our commerce, the wealth 
of our country, the vastness of our Empire. 
But the true glory of a nation does not consist 
in the extent of its dominion, in the fertility 
of the soil, or the beauty of Nature, but rather 
in the moral and intellectual pre-eminence of 
the people. 

And yet how few of us, rich or poor, have 
made ourselves all we might be. If he does 
his best, as Shakespeare says, " What a piece 
of work is man! How noble in reason! How 



263 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

infinite in faculty ! in form and movement, how 
express and admirable!" Few, indeed, as 
yet, can be said to reach this high ideal. 

The Hindoos have a theory that after death 
animals live again in a different form ; those 
that have done well in a higher, those that 
have done ill in a lower grade. To realize this 
is, they find, a powerful incentive to a virtuous 
life. But whether it be true of a future life 
or not, it is certainly true of our present exist- 
ence. If we do our best for a day, the next 
morning we shall rise to a higher life; while if 
we give way to our passions and temptations 
we take with equal certainty a step downward 
toward a lower nature. 

It is an interesting illustration of the Unity 
of Man and an encouragement to those of us 
who have no claims to genius, that, though of 
course there have been exceptions, still on the 
whole, periods of progress have generally 
been those when a nation has worked and felt 
together; the advance has been due not en- 
tirely to the efforts of a few great men, but 
also of a thousand little men ; not to a single 
genius, but to a national effort. 

Think indeed, what might be. 

"Ah! when shall all men's good 
Be each man's rule, and -universal Peace 
Lie like a shaft of light across the land, 
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, 
Thro' all the circle of the golden year." 

Our life is surrounded with mystery, our 
very world is a speck in boundless space; and 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 269 

not only the period of our own individual life, 
but that of the whole human race is, as it were, 
but a moment in the eternity of time. We 
cannot imagine any origin, nor foresee the 
conclusion. 

But though we may not as yet perceive any 
line of research which can give us a clew to 
the solution, in another sense we may hold 
that every addition to our knowledge is one 
small step toward the great revelation. 

Progress may be more slow or more rapid. 
It may come to others and not to us. It will 
not come to us if we do not strive to deserve it. 
But come it surely will. 

"Yet one thing is there that ye shall not slay, 
Even thought, that fire nor iron can affright." 

The future of man is full of hope, and who 
can foresee the limits of his destiny? 



270 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DESTINY OF MAN. 

"For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time 
are not worthy to be compared with the glory which 
shall be revealed in us." — Romans viii. 18. 

But though we have thus a sure and certain 
hope of progress for the race, still, as far as 
man is individually concerned, with advancing 
years we gradually care less and less for many 
things which gave us the greatest pleasure in 
youth. On the other hand, if our time has 
been well used, if we have warmed both hands 
wisely " before the fire of life," we may gain 
even more than we lose. If our strength be- 
comes less, we feel also the less necessity for 
exertion. Hope is gradually replaced by mem- 
ory; and whether ihis adds to our happiness 
or not depends on what our life has been. 

There are of course some lives which dimin- 
ish in value as old age advances, in which one 
pleasure fades after another, and even those 
which remain gradually lose their zest; but 
there are others which gain in richness and 
peace all, and more, than that of which time 
robs them. 

The pleasures of youth may excel in keen- 
ness and in zest, but they have at the best a 
tinge of anxiety and unrest ; they cannot have 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 271 

the fullness and depth which may accompany 
the consolations of age, and are amongst the 
richest rewards of an unselfish life. 

For as with the close of the day. so with that 
of life : there may be clouds, and yet if the 
horizon is clear, the evening may be beautiful. 

Old age has a rich store of memories, Life is 
full of 

"Joys too exquisite to last, 
And yet more exquisite when past." 

Swedenborg imagines that in heaven the 
angels are advancing continually to the spring- 
time of their youth, so that those who have 
lived longest are really the youngest ; and have 
we not all had friends who seem to fulfill this 
idea? who are in reality — that is in mind — as 
fresh as a child : of whom it may be said with 
more truth than of Cleopatra that 

"Age cannot wither nor custom stale 
Their infinite variety." 

4 'When I consider old age," says Cicero, "I 
find four causes why it is thought miserable : 
one, that it calls us away from the transaction 
of affairs; the second, that it renders the body 
more feeble ; the third, that it deprives us of 
almost all pleasures ; the fourth, that it is not 
very far from death. Of these causes let us 
see, if you please, how great and how reason- 
able each of them is." 

To be released from the absorbing affairs of 
life, to feel that one has earned a claim to 
leisure and repose, is surely in itself no evil. 



272 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

To the second complaint against old age, I 
have already referred in speaking of Health. 

The third is that it has no passions. "O 
noble privilege of age ! if indeed it takes from 
us that which is in youth our greatest defect/' 
But the higher feelings of our nature are not 
necessarily weakened; or rather, they may 
become all the brighter, being purified from 
the grosser elements of our lower nature. 

Then, indeed, it might be said that "Man is 
the sun of the world ; more than the real sun. 
The fire of his wonderful heart is the only 
light and heat worth gauge or measure." 

"Single/' says Manu, "is each man born 
into the world; single he dies; single he re- 
ceives the reward of his good deeds ; and single 
the punishment of his sins. When he dies his 
body lies like a fallen tree upon the earth, but 
his virtue accompanies his soul. Wherefore 
let man harvest and garner virtue, that so he 
may have an inseparable companion in that 
gloom which all must pass through, and which 
it is so hard to traverse." 

Is it not extraordinary that many men will 
deliberately take a road which they know is, 
to say the least, not that of happiness. That 
they prefer to make others miserable, rather 
than themselves happy. 

Plato, in the Phaedrus, explains this by de- 
scribing Man as a Composite Being, havings 
three natures, and compares him to a pair of 
winged horses and a charioteer. "Of the two 
horses one is noble and of noble origin, the 
other ignoble and of ignoble origin ; and the 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 273 

driving, as might be expected, is no easy mat- 
ter. " The noble steed endeavors to raise the 
chariot, but the ignoble one struggles to drag 
it down. 

"Man," says Shelley, "is an instrument over 
which a series of external and internal impres- 
sions are driven, like the alternations of an 
ever-changing wind over an -^Eolian lyre, 
which move it by their motion to ever- 
changing melody. " 

Cicero mentions the approach of death as the 
fourth drawback of old age. To many minds 
the shadow of the end is ever present, like the 
coffin in the Egyptian feast, and overclouds all 
the sunshine of life. But ought we so to re- 
gard death? 

Shelley's beautiful lines, 

"Life like a dome of many-colored glass 
Stains the white radiance of Eternity, 
Until death tramples it to fragments." 

contain, as it seems to me at least, a double 
error. Life need not stain the white radiance 
of eternity; nor does death necessarily tram- 
ple it to fragments. 

Man has, says Coleridge, 

"Three treasures,— love and light 
And calm thoughts, regular as infants* breath ; 
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, 
Himself, his Maker, and the Angel Death." 

Death is "the end of all, the remedy of many, 
the wish of divers men, deserving better of no 
men than of those to whom -she came before 
she was called. ' ' 



274 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

It is often assumed that the journey to 

"The undiscovered country from whose bourn 
No traveler returns," 

must be one of pain and suffering. But 
this is not so. Death is often peaceful and 
almost painless. 

Bede during his last illness was translating 
St. John's Gospel into Anglo-Saxon, and the 
morning of his death his secretary, observing 
his weakness, said, " There remains now only 
one chapter, and it seems difficult to you to 
speak." "It is easy," said Bede; "take your 
pen and write as fast as you can." At the 
close of the chapter the scribe said, "It is 
finished," to which he replied, "Thou hast said 
the truth, consummatum est. ' ' He then divided 
his little property among the brethren, hav- 
ing done which he asked to be placed opposite 
to the place where he usually prayed, said 
"Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and 
to the Holy Ghost, " and as he pronounced 
the last word he expired. 

Goethe died without any apparent suffering, 
having just prepared himself to write, and ex- 
pressed his delight at the return of spring. 

We are told of Mozart's death that "the un- 
finished requiem lay upon the bed, and his last 
efforts were to imitate some peculiar instru- 
mental effects, as he breathed out his life in 
the arms of his wife and their friend Suss- 
tnaier. " 

Plato died in the act of writing; Lucan 
while reciting part of his book on the war of 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 275 

Pharsalus; Blake died singing; Wagner in 
sleep with his head on his wife's shoulder. 
Many have passed away in their sleep. Vari- 
ous high medical authorities have expressed 
their surprise that the dying seldom feel either 
dismay or regret. And even those who perish 
by violence, as for instance in battle, feel, it 
is probable, but little suffering. 

But what of the future? There may be said 
to be now two principal views. There are 
some who believe indeed in the immortality of 
the soul, but not of the individual soul: that 
our life is continued in that of our children 
would seem, indeed, to be the natural deduction 
from the simile of St. Paul, as that of the 
grain of wheat is carried on in the plant of the 
following year. 

So long, indeed, as happiness exists it is self- 
ish to dwell too much on our own share in it. 
Admit that the soul is immortal, but that in 
the future state of existence there is a break in 
the continuity of memory, that one does not 
remember the present life, and from this 
point of view is not the importance of identity 
involved in that of continuous memory? But 
however this may be according to the general 
view, the soul, though detached from the body, 
will retain its conscious identity, and will 
awake from death, as it does from sleep ; so 
that if we cannot affirm that 

"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the Earth, 
Unseen, both when we wake, And when we sleep/, 

at any rate they exist somewhere else in space, 



276 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

and we are, indeed, looking at them when we 
gaze at the stars, though to our eyes they are> 
as yet, invisible. 

In neither case, however, can death be re- 
garded as an evil. To wish that youth and 
strength were unaffected by time might be a 
different matter. 

11 But if we are not destined to be immortal, 
yet it is a desirable thing for a man to expire 
at his fit time. For, as nature prescribes a 
boundary to all other things, so does she also 
to life. Now old age is the consummation of 
life, just as of a play: from the fatigue of 
which we ought to escape, especially when 
satiety is superadded.' 1 

From this point of view, then, we need 

"Weep not for death, 

'Tis but a fever stilled, 
A pain suppressed, — a fear at rest, 

A solemn hope fulfilled. 
The moonshine on the slumbering deep 

Is scarcely calmer. Wherefore weep? 

"Weep not for death! 

The fount of tears is sealed, 
Who knows how bright the inward light 

To those closed eyes revealed? 
Who knows what holy love may fill 
The heart that seems so cold and still?" 

Many a weary soul will have recurred with 
comfort to the thought that 

"A few more years shall roll, 
A few more seasons come, 
And we shall be with those that rest 
Asleep within the tomb. 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 277 

"A few more struggles here, 
A few more partings o'er, 
A few more toils, a few more tears, 
And we shall weep no more." 

By no one has this, however, been more 
.grandly expressed than by Shelley. 

* 'Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep! 
He hath awakened from the dream of life. 
'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep 
With phantoms an -unprofitable strife, 
He has outsoared the shadows of our night. 
Envy and calumny, and hate and pain, 
And' that unrest which men miscall delight, 
Can touch him not and torture not again. 
From the contagion of the world's slow stain 
He is secure, and now can never mourn 
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray, in vain — " 

Most men, however, decline to believe that 

1 ' We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep." 

According to the more general view death 
frees the soul from the encumbrance of the 
spirit, and summons us to the seat of judg- 
ment. In fact, 

"There is no Death! What seems so is transition; 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 
Whose portal we call Death. ' ' 

We have bodies, u we are spirits. M "I am a 
soul," said Epictetus, "dragging about a 
corpse." The body is the- mere perishable 
form of the immortal essence. Plato con- 



278 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

eluded that if the ways of God are to be jus- 
tified, there must be a future life. 

To the aged in either case death is a release. 
The Bible dwells most forcibly on the blessing 
of peace. "My peace I give unto you; not as 
the world giveth, give I unto you." Heaven, 
is described as a place where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest. 

But I suppose every one must have asked 
himself in what can the pleasures of heaven 
consist. 

"For all we know 
Of what the blessed do above 
Is that they sing, and that they love." 

It would indeed accord with few men's ideal 
that there should be any "struggle for exist- 
ence" in heaven. We should then be little 
better off than we are now. This world is 
very beautiful, if we could only enjoy it in 
peace. And yet mere passive existence — mere 
vegetation — would in itself offer few attrac- 
tions. It would indeed be almost intolerable. 

Again, the anxiety of change seems incon- 
sistent with perfect happiness; and yet a weari- 
some, interminable monotony, the same thing 
over and over again forever and ever without 
relief or variety, suggests dullness rather than 
bliss. 

I feel that to me, said Greg, "God has prom- 
ised not the heaven of the ascetic temper or 
the dogmatic theologian, or of the subtle 
mystic, or of the stern martyr ready alike to 
inflict and bear; but a heaven of purified and 
permanent affections — of a book of knowledge 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 279 

with eternal leaves, and unbounded capacities 
to read it — of those we love ever round us, 
never misconceiving us, or being harassed by 
us — of glorious work to do, and adequate 
faculties to do it — a world of solved problems, 
as well as of realized ideals." 

"For still the doubt came back, —Can God provide 
For the large heart of man what shall not pall, 
Nor through eternal ages' endless tide 
On tired spirits fall? 

"These make him say, — If God has so arrayed 
A fading world that quickly passes by, 
Such rich provision of delight has made 
For every human eye, 

"What shall the eyes that wait for him survey 
When his own presence gloriously appears 
In worlds that were not founded for a day, 
But for eternal years?" 

Here Science seems to suggest a possible 
answer: the solution of problems which have 
puzzled us here ; the acquisition of new ideas ; 
the unrolling the history of the past; the 
world of animals and plants; the secrets of 
space; the wonders of the stars and of the 
regions beyond the stars. To become ac- 
quainted with all the beautiful and interesting 
spots of our own world would indeed be some- 
thing to look forward to, and our world is but 
one of many millions. I sometimes wonder as 
I look away to the stars at night whether it 
will ever be my privilege as a disembodied 
spirit to visit and explore them. When we 
had made the great tour fresh interests would 
have arisen, and we might well begin again. 



280 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

Here there is an infinity of interest without 
anxiety. So that at last the only doubt may be 

"Lest an eternity should not suffice 

To take the measure and the breadth and height 
Of what there is reserved in Paradise 
Its ever-new delight." 

Cicero surely did not exaggerate when he 
said, 4t O glorious day! when I shall depart to 
that divine company and assemblage of spirits, 
and quit this troubled and polluted scene? 
For I shall go not only to those great men of 
whom I have spoken before, but also to my son 
Cato, than whom never was better man born, 
nor more distinguished for pious affection; 
whose body was burned by me, whereas, on the 
contrary it was fitting that mine should be 
burned by him. But his soul not deserting 
me, but oft looking back no doubt, departed 
to those regions whither it saw that I myself 
was destined to come. Which, though a dis- 
tress to me, I seemed patiently to endure: not 
that I bore it with indifference, but I com- 
forted myself with the recollection that the 
separation and distance between us would not 
continue long. For these reasons, O Scipio 
(since you said that you with Lselius wer£ 
accustomed to wonder at this), old age is toler- 
able to me, and not only not irksome, but even 
delightful. And if I am wrong in this, that I . 
believe the souls of men to be immortal, I 
willingly delude myself: nor do I desire that 
this mistake, in which I take pleasure, should 
be wrested from me as long as I live ; but if I, 
when dead, shall have on consciousness, as 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 281 

some narrow-minded philosophers imagine, I 
do not fear lest dead philosophers should ridi- 
cule this my delusion." 

Nor can I omit the striking passage in the 
Apology, when pleading before the people of 
Athens, Socrates says, "Let us reflect in 
another way, and we shall see that there is 
great reason to hope that death is a good; for 
one of two things — either death is a state of 
nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as 
men say, there is a change and migration of 
the soul from this world to another. Now if 
you suppose that there is no consciousness, but 
a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed 
even by the sight of dreams, death will be an 
unspeakable gain. For if a person were to 
select the night in which his sleep was undis- 
turbed even by dreams, and were to compare 
with this the other days and nights of his life, 
and then were to tell us how many days and 
nights he had passed in the course of his life 
better and more pleasantly than this one, I 
think that any man, I will not say a private 
man, but even the great king will not find 
many such days or nights, when compared 
with the others. Now, if death is like this, I 
say that to die is gain; for eternity is then 
only a single night. But if death is the journeys 
to another place, and there, as men say, all 
the dead are, what good, O my friends and 
judges, can be greater than this? 

"If, indeed, when the pilgrim arrives in the 
world below, he is delivered from the profes- 
sors of justice in the world, and finds the true 



282 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

judges, who are said to give judgment there, — 
Minos, and Rhadamanthus, and ^Eacus, and 
Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were 
righteous in their own life, — that pilgrimage 
will be worth making. What would not a man 
give if he might converse with Orpheus, and 
Musseus, and Hesoid, and Homer? Nay, if 
this be true, let me die again and again. I 
myself, too, shall have a wonderful interest 
in there meeting and conversing with Palam- 
edes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and other 
heroes of old, who have suffered death 
through an unjust judgment; and there will 
be no small pleasure, as I think, in comparing 
my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I 
shall then be able to continue my search into 
true and false knowledge; as in this world, so 
also in that; and I shall find out who is wise, 
and who pretends to be wise, and is not. What 
would not a man give, O judges, to be able to 
examine the leader of the great Trojan expe- 
dition ; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless 
others, men and women too! What infinite 
delight would there be in conversing with 
them and asking them questions. In another 
world they do not put a man to death for ask- 
ing questions; assuredly not. For besides 
being happier in that world than in this, they 
will be immortal, if what is said be true. 

4 'Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer 
about death, and know of a certainty that no 
evil can happen to a good man, either in life 
or after death. He and his are not neglected 
by the gods; nor has my own approaching end 



THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 283 

happened by mere chance. But I see clearly 
that to die and be released was better for me ; 
and therefore the oracle gave no sign. For 
which reason, also, I am not angry with my 
condemners, or with my accusers; they have 
done me no harm although they did not mean 
to do me any good; and for this I may gently 
blame them. The hour of departure has 
arrived, and we go our ways — I to die and you 
to live. Which is better God only knows/' 

In the Wisdom of Solomon we are promised 
that — 

"The souls of the righteous are in the hand 
of God, and there shall no torment touch 
them. 

"In the sight of the unwise they seemed to 
die; and their departure is taken for misery. 

"And their going from us to be utter de- 
struction; but they are in peace. 

"For though they be punished in the sight 
of men, yet is their hope full of immortality. 

"And having been a little chastised, they 
shall be greatly rewarded: for God proved 
them, and found them worthy for himself/' 

And assuredly, if in the hour of death the 
conscience is at peace, the mind need not be 
troubled. The future is full of doubt, indeed, 
but fuller still of hope. 

If we are entering upon a rest after the 
Struggles of life, 

"Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest," 

that to many a weary soul will be a welcome 
bourn, and even then we may say, 



284 THE PLEASURES OF LIFE. 

"O Death! where is thy sting? 
O Grave! where is thy victory?" 

On the other hand, if we are entering on a 
new sphere of existence, where we may look 
forward to meet not only those of whom we 
have heard so often, those whose works we 
have read and admired, and to whom we owe 
so much, but those also whom we have loved 
and lost; when we shall leave behind us the 
bonds of the flesh and the limitations of our 
earthly existence; when we shall join the 
Angels, and Archangels, and all the company 
of Heaven, — then, indeed, we may cherish a 
sure and certain hope that the interests and 
pleasures of this world are as nothing compared 
to those of the life that awaits us in our Eternal 
Home. 

THE END. 



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COMPLETE LIST OP THE POETIC AND PROSE 

WORKS OF 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox 



POEMS OF PASSION. 12mo, cloth, $1 .00. Presentation 
Edition — white vellum, gold top, $1.50. Presentation 
Edition — half calf, gold top, $2.50. 

POEMS OF PASSION. Quarto, cloth. Illustrated 
Edition, $1.50. 

POEMS OF PASSION. Pocket Edition, Illustrated— 1 6mo. 

cloth, 75 cents; full morocco, gold edges, $2.50. 

Human nature is less of a mystery after the reading of this book. 

"Only a woman of genius could produce such a remarkable 
work."— Illustrated London News. 

MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 
Presentation Edition — white vellum, gold top, $1.50. 
Presentation Edition — half calf, gold top, $2.50- 
Beautiful thoughts and healthy inspiration in every line. 
"Maurine is an ideal poem about a perfect woman."— The South* 

POEMS OF PLEASURE. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. Presenta- 
tion Edition — white vellum, gold top, $1.50. Presenta- 
tion Edition — half calf, gold top, $2.50. 
These poems make life doubly sweet and cheerful. 
"Mrs. Wilcox is an artist with a touch that reminds one of 

Lord Byron's impassionate strains."-— Paris Register* 

THREE WOMEN. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. Presentation** 
Edition — art binding, gold top, boxed, $1.50. 

Her, latest and greatest poem. This marvelous narrative of 
thrilling interest depicts the lives of three good and beautiful 
women in every phase of weakness* passion, pride, love, sympathy 
and tenderness, 

AN AMBITIOUS MAN. (Prose.) 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

"Vivid realism stands forth from every page of this fascinating 
book."— Every Day, 



WORKS OF ELLA WHEELER W ILCOX (Continued) 

HOW SALVATOR WON AND OTHER POEMS. 12mo, 
cloth, $1.00. Presentation Edition — white vellum, gold 
top, $1.50. Presentation Edition — half calf, gold top, 
$2.50. 

A choice collection of recitations, specially compiled for read- 
ers and impersonators. 

"Her name is a household word. Her great power lies in depict- 
ing human emotions ; and in handling that grandest of all passions 
—love— she wields the pen of a master."— The Saturday Record. 

CUSTER AND OTHER POEMS. Handsomely illustrated. 
12mo, cloth, $1.00. Presentation Edition — white vellum, 
gold top, $1.50. Presentation Edition— half calf, gold 
top, $2.50. 

A grand epic of the exploits and massacre of the immortal 
Custer. 

"One cannot help gaining new impetus for the spiritual exist- 
ence from coming in contact, mentally, with such ideal sentiments 
and emotions as this rarely gifted poetess voices in magnificent 
Verse." — Universal Truth. 

AN ERRING WOMAN'S LOVE. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 
Presentation Edition — white vellum, gold top, $1.50. 
Presentation Edition — half calf, gold top, $2.50. 

"Power and pathos characterize this magnificent poem. A 
deep understanding of life and an intense sympathy are beauti- 
fully expressed."— Tribune. 

MEN, WOMEN AND EMOTIONS. (Prose.) 12mo, heavy 
enameled paper cover, 50 cents ; English cloth, $1.00. 
A skillful analysis of social habits, customs and follies. 
"Her fame has reached all parts of the world, and her popular- 
ity seems to grow with each succeeding year."— American Newsman. 

THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD. (Poems, songs and 

stories.) With over sixty original illustrations. Quarto, 

cloth, $1.00. 

The delight of the nursery. A charming mother's book. 

"The foremost baby's book of the world."— New Orleans 
Picayune. 

PRESENTATION SETS. Poems of Passion, Maurine, 
Poems of Pleasure, How Salvator Won, and Custer, are 
supplied in sets of 3, 4, or 5 titles, as may be desired, in 
neat boxes, without extra charge. 

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX'S WORKS are for sale by leading book- 
sellers everywhere, or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price by 
the Publishers. 

W. B. CONKBY COMPANY, Chicago 



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